


Falconry

by BetaCobra



Series: Falconry [1]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Awkward Kissing, Biphobia, Bisexual Character, Break Up, Canon Autistic Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Dating, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Repressed, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Insecurity, Jewish Character, Kreese being Kreese, Latino Character, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Protective Parents, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sexist Language, Suggestive Themes, Teenage Drama, Toxic Masculinity, Underage Drinking, Understanding, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 82,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetaCobra/pseuds/BetaCobra
Summary: What if Miguel was at the Cobra Kai dojo the night Moon dumped Hawk?AU, canon-divergent as of S2E5





	1. Imping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imping: verb (used with object)  
Falconry.  
1\. to graft (feathers) into a wing.  
2\. to furnish (a wing, tail, etc.) with feathers, as to make good losses or deficiencies and improve powers of flight.

From where he was sitting on the mats in the back room of the dojo, Miguel leaned forward, stretching his hands out to grab his right ankle, holding the position for thirty seconds. Sensei Lawrence had said stretching after practice was just as important as loosening up the muscles beforehand, since you didn’t want to end up with pulled ligaments, and while Miguel wasn’t always good about it, that night he remembered the post-exercise wind down. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had accomplished, going to Cobra Kai that evening, besides an extra workout. Perhaps he’d just needed some more time to clear his head.

He just hadn’t been able to get Sam out of it, not even after he’d left the restaurant he and the other Cobras had been hanging out in earlier that day. Miguel had come to the dojo in the hopes that Sensei Lawrence might be able to give him some advice about how he could go all-in with regards to winning Sam back, since Tory had shot down his photoshop video as too desperate. But his Sensei hadn’t been there. Sensei Kreese was the one manning the fort that night. And Miguel still didn’t feel entirely comfortable being alone with him, even knowing he was just sitting in the office. He couldn’t place the source of his discomfort. It just felt weird, like the feeling you get when you’re alone in a dark hallway and the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up.

The whole night honestly felt like a waste. Shaking his head, Miguel thought to himself that he should’ve taken Tory up on her offer to spend some time in her company, to get his mind off Sam. He should’ve struck first. Instead of ending the night getting to know the new girl who’d handed his ass to him, all he had to show for his time was sweat stains on his faded white gi. God, he couldn’t have been more obvious how desperate he was to get his girlfriend back, could he?

The sound of muffled voices knocked Miguel out of his thoughts. Standing to his feet, he walked to the hallway, and his brows pinched when he saw Hawk and Moon talking outside the dojo. He couldn’t make out the words through the window, but judging from Moon’s gesticulations, things looked pretty heated. Then, suddenly, she was walking away, and Hawk was yanking off his shirt, calling something out to her. Rubbing the back of his neck, Miguel turned around and walked back into the room he’d been in, to give them some privacy.

He needn’t have bothered. Not five minutes later, Hawk came storming into the back room with a stony glower on his face. He brushed right past Miguel, like he didn’t even see him at all, and launched himself furiously at the standing punching bag. Miguel watched as his friend absolutely whaled into it, throwing punch after angry punch, the scowl on his mouth deepening with each hit he made. Miguel had never seen Hawk so mad.

That probably meant only one thing. Moon must have just dumped him. And, not willing to just stand there awkwardly, Miguel broke the silence between them. “You okay?” he asked simply. What else was he supposed to say?

Hawk stopped hitting the bag for a moment, to catch his breath, but he didn’t turn around to look at Miguel. He rolled back his bare shoulders once to loosen his muscles, giving the impression that the raptor tattooed on his back was flapping its wings. Then he said, “I got into a fight. With Miyagi-Do.” With a frown, he recommenced attacking the punching bag in front of him with renewed vigor.

“What?!” asked Miguel, his face contorted in confusion. That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting to hear. He had assumed Hawk would admit that his girlfriend had just broken things off; the signs were pretty obvious, after all. But that news caught him off-guard. “Why did you fight Miyagi-Do?” When the hell did this happen? Was that the reason Hawk had suddenly left the restaurant, taking along the new Cobras with him?

The frantic punches stopped again, but Hawk still didn’t turn around. “Demetri joined Miyagi-Do. He insulted our dojo and our Sensei on Yelp.” He struck the punching bag again, jabbing his knuckles hard against it over and over. Taking another couple deep breaths, he added, “I tried to put him in his place. But then Robby and Sam butted in. We lost the fight.” Another firm hit to the bag followed that statement.

Miguel could hardly believe what he was hearing, and he tried to piece together the story from what fragments Hawk was giving him. Demetri had joined Miyagi-Do? He’d insulted Cobra Kai online? And Hawk had gotten into a fight with him and the others at Miyagi-Do over it? “Why would you get into a fight over that?” he asked, walking around to the other side of the punching bag, since it seemed that Hawk wasn’t going to bother looking him in the face.

That got Hawk to stop hitting the bag, and Miguel could see the tell-tale bruise on his left cheekbone that stood as the testament to his fight earlier that day. That, combined with his new red mohawk he’d started sporting gave him a legitimately threatening air that Miguel didn’t think suited him; God, he barely looked like the old Eli at all anymore. Hawk met his eyes briefly, then looked away, the frown never leaving his face. “Demetri betrayed us,” he explained, like that was all that needed to be said.

Standing there, catching his breath from his sudden burst of furious energy, Hawk didn’t expect Miguel to understand. Just like Moon didn’t understand. Nobody did, because Hawk never could explain things very well. He wasn’t articulate enough. His English class teachers were always getting on his back about that. Speak the fuck up, Lip. He saw the way Miguel just shook his head in disbelief, giving him the same look that Moon had given him outside. That was just what he needed that night, back-to-back chew-outs by the two people whose opinions he valued the most.

“Dude, that sucks that Demetri joined Miyagi-Do, but getting into a fist-fight over it?” Miguel crossed his arms. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think? Although from the sounds of it, you mustn’t have been thinking much at all.” Miguel was the only student in the dojo who would have the balls to say that to him, besides maybe Aisha.

“Screw you, man,” Hawk snapped coldly.

“Looks like _you’re_ the one who got screwed,” Miguel parried back irately. He couldn’t imagine what must have been going through Hawk’s mind at the time to justify going off the rails over something inconsequential like that. “Just, I mean, really, you fought him over a Yelp review? You know we could have just written our own reviews to counter his, right? I could get being mad about it, especially if he was ragging on Sensei, but it wasn’t really worth losing your cool over, was it? You should’ve just left it alone.”

Hawk narrowed his eyes meanly and jutted his chin out in defiance. “I’m not soft like that.”

Rolling his own eyes, Miguel responded sharply, “I didn’t say you were soft.”

“You just said you wanted me to be,” retorted Hawk. So Miguel was going to be like that, too, huh? As Eli, he’d been bullied for being soft. Now as Hawk, he was being punished for being hard. What the fuck did people want from him? “I did what Sensei told us to do. I made a choice. I went all-in.” He had powered forward, with tunnel vision, so worried about what the consequences of Demetri’s review would be if the wrong eyes fell on it.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what Sensei meant by that,” said Miguel, so assuredly. Jesus, what would Sensei Lawrence say if he heard about this? Did Hawk want to go back to mat-scrubbing duty, because that was probably where he’d be headed if Sensei caught wind of his antics, especially if he learned that Hawk had lost on top of it, too. Bad enough to get in a fight for a stupid reason, but to also make Cobra Kai look bad by losing? Sensei wouldn’t like that.

“Then maybe he should’ve been fucking clear about it!” Hawk bit back. Wasn’t that just how things were lately? Sensei would tell them to do something, Hawk would do what he said, and then he’d get chastised for it.

Rapidly beginning to lose his patience with Hawk’s misplaced rage, Miguel asked him disbelievingly, “So what, you’re gonna blame Sensei now?”

Hawk countered, “I’m the one who _defended_ Sensei! By trying to get Demetri to take down his review. He wouldn’t do it. I had to fight him. If Robby and Sam hadn’t butted in, I would’ve _made_ him take it down!” He was getting riled up again. His arms were starting to shake by his sides. He wanted so desperately to start whaling into the punching bag again, to get all of those bad feelings out of him. Instead, he verbally jabbed at Miguel with, “I guess I just care about Cobra Kai more than you.”

Miguel really wanted to know how Hawk’s mind worked sometimes. Because, in moments like these, his friend came to the most outrageous conclusions. It was like someone asked him what two plus two equaled, and he answered, “Apples.” It made no sense to Miguel. And that lack of sense was starting to grate on his own nerves. How could Hawk not understand that what he did was out of line? And how could he accuse him of not caring about Cobra Kai’s reputation?

So, against his better inclination, Miguel furrowed his dark brows and attacked back. “I’m guessing Moon didn’t agree with any of _that_, did she?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He ought to have had better control over his own temper if he was going to call out his friend for losing his.

The features on Hawk’s face went cold again, and Miguel knew he’d struck a nerve. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the next thing out of Hawk’s mouth would be more venom. “Tell me again how you and Sam broke up,” he spat, curling his scarred upper lip back in distaste. That hit its mark. Hawk watched the way Miguel’s face suddenly shifted from self-righteous frustration to self-conscious embarrassment so visibly in the blink of an eye.

Who the hell was Miguel to get on Hawk for getting dumped over losing his temper when he hit his own girlfriend in the heat of a drunken fight against Robby? Talk about doing stupid shit, pot meet kettle.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Miguel decided to be the bigger man and apologize first. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

But Hawk wasn’t having it. “Yeah, you did,” he muttered, turning away and walking over to sit down against the nearby wall, where the words “Cobra Kai Never Dies” had been painted in white. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms over them, and began fumbling with his fingers.

Tired of the fighting, Miguel followed suit and sat down beside him. The two sat there in silence for a few long minutes, each enveloped in his own thoughts. “Can you just explain it to me?” asked Miguel, more softly this time. He could understand that Hawk, in his own outrageous way, really did probably think he was doing what Sensei told them by going all-in. But he needed to hear it explained in order to comprehend.

Still staring straight ahead, Hawk asked defensively, “Explain what?”

“Why were you so threatened by a Yelp review?” clarified Miguel. He gave Hawk a little nudge with his elbow, adding, “Only yuppies and hipsters pay attention to Yelp reviews anyway.”

Hawk snorted before he could stop himself, but offered for elucidation, “Same reason why Sensei was mad about the ‘snake in the grass’ dig.”

Arching an eyebrow skeptically, Miguel said, “Yeah, but Sensei and Sam’s dad already had long-standing beef. Haven’t you and Demetri been friends for, like, ever?” Miguel wasn’t blind, he saw the tension that had been building between Hawk and Demetri for a while, although he hadn’t wanted to interfere; he had his own problems to deal with, after all, trying to win Sam back. He just didn’t get what all the hostility was about. Demetri could be a bit of a whiner, sure; okay, a lot of a whiner; but Hawk’s reactions seemed totally out of proportion to any perceived wrongdoing.

Hawk’s eyes hardened. “All he had to do was come back to Cobra Kai. I told him to, multiple times. But just because Sensei Lawrence tossed him to the mat once and Sensei Kreese gave him a couple stitches, he pussied out. Then he dragged the whole dojo on Yelp.” Seeing the way Miguel was shaking his head again from the corner of his vision, he scoffed. “You don’t get it. What if my parents saw the review?”

Miguel cracked a grin and tried defusing the situation with a bit more humor. “Are your parents yuppies? Nah, they’re probably hipsters, right?”

But Hawk wasn’t in the mood for joviality at the moment. “They almost pulled me from Cobra Kai once, you know that? When they read Sensei’s rap sheet online. They think he’s a crazy drunk and that he’s probably gonna get me killed or something.”

That sobered things for Miguel a bit. He could relate to that, since his mother _did_ pull him from the dojo after Kyler and his gang had beaten him up at the Halloween dance. She’d also, at the time, thought that Sensei Lawrence was a bad influence and was only going to get him hurt. That, at least, made some sense from Hawk’s perspective, even if it was still a gross overreaction to what should have been a minor transgression. If Miguel’s mom was that protective, he could only imagine what Hawk’s helicopter parents would do if they had any reason to suspect Cobra Kai was dangerous. Miguel had a suspicion, however, that that wasn’t everything. “Is that the only reason?” he asked, raising his brows and scooting closer.

Hawk looked down at his fidgeting thumbs and narrowed his eyes, ceasing with the stimming. “I can’t go back to the way things were,” he said matter-of-factly, expecting Miguel to get what he was saying. “I won’t.”

But the boy beside him didn’t understand what confronting Demetri over his Yelp review had to do with that. “I guess you’re right, man,” admitted Miguel, “I _don’t_ get it.”

Finally looking at him, Hawk gave Miguel a sad half-smirk for a brief second, before looking back down. “No, you don’t, do you?” He appreciated Miguel’s honesty. At least he admitted it. It was one of the reasons he liked Miguel so much. They might not have always seen eye to eye, but at least he didn’t play head games with Hawk like other people did. With Miguel, what you saw was what you got. And Miguel didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his sour mood, Hawk realized, now that he had a little time to cool off.

And with that realization came the super consciousness of how close Miguel was as he sat beside him. Hawk, whose sensations were hypersensitive from being so incensed previously, could feel his friend’s body heat, he was sitting so close. It made him tense. What did that mean? “So,” Hawk said, switching the topic back around to try and get his mind off it, “you think I didn’t get what Sensei meant about going all-in?”

Accepting the offer to relax things between them, Miguel grimaced humorously, trying to be funny again. “Pretty sure this qualifies as a swing and a miss, buddy.” This time, Hawk didn’t mind his joke as much. In fact, he welcomed it, as he understood what his friend meant by it. He was just trying to help him feel better.

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a more straightforward smile, looking beside him again at Miguel. He couldn’t help but notice his cheesy grin, the way it brightened his face. Hawk wanted to chase that good mood of his, to see if maybe it was contagious.

Because his breakup was still very raw. He felt a stabbing pain, right in the area around the tattoo on his collarbone. And Hawk didn’t like that feeling of raw pain. It cut too deep. Was it going to be like it had been for Miguel, his breakup? Would he pine for Moon the same way Miguel still did for Sam? Would that ever stop? What if it never did?

And it wasn’t just Moon dumping him that hurt. Demetri’s actions did, too. All Eli had wanted was for Demetri to do what he did, to let Cobra Kai transform him into something that the world wouldn’t hate so much. But Demetri refused to do that, he refused to give up who he was just to make others like him. And it was clear that he looked down on Hawk for doing just that. He could see right through Hawk’s bullshit.

Those thoughts scared Hawk. If there was anything Hawk hated more than pain, it was fear. And neither were supposed to exist in that dojo. Fear. Pain. Defeat. None of it existed.

So he didn’t think. He acted. Straight on his emotions, even though that had just gotten him in trouble at the mall. He went all-in, hoping this time he got it right. Strike first.

Hawk leaned over and pressed his lips against Miguel’s. The contact felt like a light of fire that immediately spread through his body, warming it thoroughly. It tingled, like the feeling he got when holding chilled fingers near an open flame to get the feeling back in them. He didn’t linger too long, the whole thing was very brief, worried as he was that the fire would burn him if he stayed too long.

Miguel didn’t move. He just sat there, frozen, frigid with surprise. Was he immobilized by fear or by excitement? He couldn’t be quite sure himself. When Hawk drew back, Miguel took a long look at his face. Had that just happened? “Oh shit,” he breathed, raising his eyebrows high on his forehead.

Hawk agreed, casting his eyes away from Miguel’s bewildered stare, whispering back, “Oh shit.”


	2. Brancher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brancher: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. a young bird (such as a fledgling hawk) that has left the nest and taken to the branches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a kudo/comment!

With rock music blasting in his earbuds, Miguel reclined on his bed, his back resting against the pillows, his foot tapping in the air in rhythm with the beat. His laptop rested on his lap, and he tried his hardest to concentrate on continuing to improve the photoshop project he’d been working on at the restaurant earlier. He didn’t want to give up on it, not just yet. In fact, now he wanted to throw himself into it more than ever. He tried to think of ways to make the video seem just a touch less desperate, without losing its sincerity. It was weird. How could girls say they wanted a guy who was both sincere but also not desperate? Seemed a little contradictory.

His brown eyes saddened pitifully when they focused on Sam’s grinning face in the picture on the monitor; and, for what must have been the millionth time since that night before the All-Valley Tournament, Miguel felt the pang of regret, wishing above all else that he could just take back that one night and have a do-over. And now he had even more reason to feel regret….

A small knock came at his door before his mother poked her head in. “Hey, Miggy, I just got off the phone with the hospital, they’re calling me in for an emergency,” she said after he pulled out his earbuds to listen to her, and Miguel could then see that his mom was wearing her nurse’s uniform. Another late-night shift at work due to short staffing. At least the overtime pay would be good. “I’ll be back early in the morning. Your Ya-Ya’s already in bed, so please keep it quiet. Don’t be staying up too late yourself, okay?”

With a smile, Miguel promised, “I won’t, don’t worry. I’ll probably crash soon here anyways, I got karate practice tomorrow.”

Carmen smiled back and nodded. “Alright, goodnight,” she said with maternal tenderness. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he responded warmly, watching while she closed the door behind her before putting his earphones back in. Miguel attempted to let Guns N’ Roses distract him from the thoughts that kept pulling him from his mission to win his ex-girlfriend back. But the more he tried to ignore them, the more his brain pushed them to the forefront. He wasn’t going to be able to not think about it, was he? His eyes fell to the clock at the bottom-right of the computer screen: 12:18AM. If he was going to act, he needed to do it soon, or else it was going to have to wait until tomorrow. No point in putting it off anymore. It would only make things more awkward.

With a groan, he caved in, reaching over to the nightstand beside his bed and grabbing his phone off its charger. Swiping it open, Miguel opened his contacts and began to quickly type with his thumbs, shooting a text out before he lost his nerve: _dude don’t you think maybe we should talk about the thing?_

He hit “send” and the message soon showed as delivered to Hawk. Miguel chewed on his bottom lip for the next few minutes, waiting impatiently for a response. The thing. Right. He should have just called it what it was. The kiss. The kiss that had come out of nowhere. And then Hawk had just stood up and taken off, leaving Miguel sitting stunned, alone in the dojo, not knowing how to react. That was kinda shit on his part. To be fair, maybe he’d panicked. Miguel probably would have in his place too.

Miguel really didn’t need this in his life right now. He didn’t need to be thrown into this state of confusion, he didn’t need things to get all muddled like that. Sam still dominated his thoughts, even two months after their breakup. He continued spending what had to be many accumulated hours playing what-if scenarios in his head, convinced that eventually he’d find the one that would come true if he acted on it, to go all-in. But now he had to deal with this instead.

Finally, Hawk responded: _don’t worry about it man, I was just mixed up. rough night y’know? it didn’t mean anything_

While he knew it was difficult to read tone from text, the blasé manner that permeated from that reply made Miguel’s face pinch, puzzled. He hadn’t really known how he’d expected Hawk to react to his question, but flippant denial wasn’t high on the list. Defensiveness, maybe. Perhaps he’d even supposed an apology would come out of him. But Hawk didn’t usually run away from threats anymore. Miguel texted back disbelievingly: _really???_

Hawk’s next text message was much faster arriving: _lol yeah don’t read too much into it_

Was Hawk being serious? Miguel picked at his bottom lip with his fingers now; he remembered the feeling of Hawk’s lips on it. How could he not read into it? If a girl had randomly kissed him, he sure as hell would read into that. Doubly so if it was a guy. And if it was a friend who was a guy? Consider that a hat trick. No way he was going to just blow this off. He asked Hawk: _c’mon be real, it’s_ _kinda hard not to read into a kiss don’t you think?_

There, at least he’d said the word. Let Hawk deal with that.

Another few minutes passed, as Miguel assumed Hawk must have been thinking carefully about how he was going to answer; well, as carefully as Hawk ever thought about saying anything those days. What was Miguel hoping he’d say? Maybe he should’ve just been happy that Hawk was trying to put it aside. Maybe his friend was trying to do them both a favor. But Hawk was the one who’d gotten Miguel all confused, so it was his responsibility to follow through with his actions.

Because he didn’t want to be up all night thinking too much about all of this, questioning his whole history of romantic attraction. Miguel had never considered the possibility that he might be bi, or pan, or poly, or whatever. Had there ever been any guys he found attractive before? Was there ever a time he looked at another dude and thought he looked nice and just didn’t linger on the observation? Maybe. Yeah. Miguel supposed there were a couple times. And he did like Hawk. But he wasn’t sure if he liked him like _that_.

In all honesty, he’d never once thought of Hawk as anything other than his friend. It had just never occurred to him to think otherwise. Now Miguel was racking his brain, remembering their past interactions, trying to find any signs that would have foreshadowed what happened in the dojo earlier that night, wondering what he must have missed in order to get caught off-guard so thoroughly like that. He couldn’t think of anything blatant. Had Hawk ever flirted with him and he just didn’t notice? Hawk was sometimes a difficult guy to read, Miguel supposed it was possible he missed some signals.

That made him uneasy. Now he was probably going to start reading into everything his friend said going forward, looking for things that might not even be there. That was undoubtedly going to end up embarrassing both himself and Hawk. Shit, he couldn’t fall into that trap again. Wasn’t that how he’d screwed things up with Sam? He’d assumed she had been ignoring his texts on purpose, that she was ashamed to be going out with someone like him, he’d projected motivations onto her that she hadn’t intended. And look where that had gotten him. Miguel had to knock that habit, or at least stay on top of it, so it didn’t happen again. He really didn’t want things to get anymore awkward between him and Hawk.

Hawk’s response pinged on the phone, and Miguel glanced down at the screen in his hands: _nah it’s easy, especially when the other person’s not a good kisser. 2/10 would not recommend. no offense. at most I’d hit it and quit it_

Miguel sighed and rolled his eyes, but he also couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from curling a bit at that audacious response. He didn’t ever remember Sam complaining about the way he kissed; besides, he’d been caught unaware by Hawk’s actions, it wasn’t like he’d been on his A game at the time. Well, if that was how Hawk insisted on being: _lol alright if you say so dude_

What else could he say? It wasn’t like he could make Hawk talk. If he was really so adamant that they put the whole incident behind them, maybe that was the right thing to do. Maybe Hawk really hadn’t meant anything behind it, the whole thing might have left him horribly embarrassed. The guy had just been dumped by his girlfriend. No doubt his feelings were probably a tad out of whack. Lots of weird things could happen when someone was feeling vulnerable like that. Miguel had felt so shitty after Sam cut things off between them, he was amazed he didn’t end up kissing _someone_ at the All-Valley Tournament, when his own emotions were skyrocketing.

So, plugging his phone back into its charger and returning his attention back to the project at hand on his laptop, Miguel tried to forget the whole thing ever happened.

Tried, being the word.

The next day at the Cobra Kai dojo, before practice started, Hawk tried his hardest to avoid interacting with Miguel. Seeing his friend standing beside Aisha and Tory while all of them were doing pre-practice stretching, Hawk walked over to the other side of the dojo, where Chris was talking with Mitch, Nathaniel, and some of the other Cobra noobs. He caught him saying something about how “it doesn’t sit right” with him, but Hawk just blocked out their chatter as best he could. He had too much else on his mind to worry about whatever it was they were complaining about.

Plopping himself down on the mats, Hawk extended out his left leg, curling his right one in, and leaned over to stretch the muscles. He didn’t look up at Miguel. He refused to, even though he knew his friend had to be giving him at least the occasional glance. He could feel it. Hawk had always had a sixth sense when it came to feeling when people had their eyes on him. A lifetime of experience had left him sensitive to it, the lingering, the staring, the gawking. It wasn’t paranoia if it was true, now was it?

He’d really fucked things up between them, hadn’t he? He’d been doing that a lot lately. What had he been thinking? He was still feeling for Moon; he was still feeling really hard for her. He’d spent a good chunk of the night looking at pics of her on his phone that they’d taken together. Hawk wanted so badly to text her, to try and explain things. But that would be a pussy move. Girls didn’t like desperate guys. He was too alpha for that. So, he’d simply scrolled through the photos, hoping maybe Moon would text him instead, saying she didn’t really mean it, that she still wanted to be with him. Boy had that been a gigantic waste of time. And it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Hawk switched his legs, stretching out the muscles in the right calf next. He had to get them loosened up, his muscles, they’d felt so wound up lately. Nothing sucked worse than a pulled muscle. He reached his free hand into his gi top and rubbed at the left side of his collarbone. It felt sore, he would swear on it. Maybe Rico had fucked up on his tattoo there, maybe the thing was infected. Yeah. Right.

He had to force himself to stop massaging it. None of that pansy shit….

Hawk had gone through his whole teenage adolescence so far convinced he’d never get a girlfriend. Then, after flipping the script, he’d found himself on Moon’s radar. Suddenly after that, they were dating. Now, they were broken up. It all happened so fast, it felt like it had happened in the blink of an eye. Moon had been in his life, and now she wasn’t. Maybe Eli was worried that meant the whole thing had been a fluke, some hiccup, that the universe had forgotten to shit on him for just a couple months and let him believe he wasn’t destined to be alone forever. Now the universe was back at it again, right on schedule. Was that why he’d kissed Miguel? To prove the universe wrong? To hold onto that good feeling for a little while longer, not wanting it to be gone for good?

Well, it was gone. Moon was gone. Sooner or later, he’d have to accept that, right? But defeat did not exist, did it?

Hawk extended both his legs out and leaned over to touch his feet. Whatever. Right now, he had a more pressing issue at hand that demanded his attention. He had to fix the new problem he’d created in his moment of weakness. He couldn’t risk ruining his friendship with Miguel. Now that Demetri had betrayed him, Miguel’s friendship meant more to him than ever. If Hawk didn’t have that, he didn’t know what he would do.

So, he had to play the whole thing off as a joke. Miguel would believe that. Just weirdo Hawk up to his usual weird shit again, right? Nothing out of the ordinary there, right? But man did it take a lot to get him to drop it when Miguel had texted him the previous night.

Eli was worried he might have ended up having a breakdown, it frayed his nerves so bad. He had just finished setting his bathroom alarm after midnight and he was preparing to get into bed and catch a few hours of sleep before the thing would inevitably wake him up (or at least he hoped that would be what woke him up) when Miguel had texted him. He wouldn’t stop drilling him about the kiss. But Eli didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted Miguel to drop it. He wished he could’ve taken the whole thing back. It made him feel like a wimp to admit it, but it was true. So much for striking hard.

It wasn’t so much the kiss itself he regretted as it was the potential consequences of it. Hawk had no reason to suspect Miguel would reciprocate any feelings he had beyond friendship, and it had been stupid of him to risk that on a whim. His impulse control had been sorely lacking lately. He needed to get that back under control, before it cost him more than a bruised cheekbone and being banned from the comic book store at the mall.

Suddenly, a pair of bare feet stepped into his line of vision, and Hawk glanced up to see Chris staring down at him. The other boy’s broad shoulders were slumped, and his brows were knitted together guiltily. What did he want? “Hey, man,” said Chris dejectedly, “I was talking with the others about what happened yesterday, back at the mall. I really think we took things too far with that guy. It didn’t feel right, I don’t think he deserved that.”

Hawk narrowed his eyes and scowled. Who were any of the new Cobras to criticize him? They didn’t know anything. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it, Douchebag!” he snapped, standing back up on his own feet to try and look more intimidating. With a scoff, he added for good measure, “Which won’t be anytime soon, so don’t hold your breath.” Chris just shook his head disappointedly and turned away. Hawk expected him to go back to pre-class warmups, but instead Chris went over to the side to pick up his backpack, and then he started walking towards the door. That genuinely surprised Hawk. “Wait, where are you going?” he called out, getting the attention of everyone else in the dojo.

“Chris, what are you doing?” asked Mitch, who had hurried over to grab his friend’s shoulder.

But Chris shrugged off the hand. “I hate it here,” he admitted to Mitch, knowing that was the only justification he needed to leave. And leave, he did, giving one last shake of his head at Hawk before walking out the door, jingling the bell behind him. He wasn’t the only one. Nathaniel and a few other boys stood up and followed close behind him, grabbing their bags and bailing. It had been the final straw. They were sick of being treated badly by the seasoned Cobras. Hawk was the worst about it, but Miguel and Aisha treated them no better, either, always calling them belittling names. Between them and Sensei Lawrence’s putdowns, Cobra Kai was not a friendly place for new students. Better to take their chances with Miyagi-Do. Maybe they’d be more welcomed there.

Hawk’s face reddened with a fierce glower. _Good riddance_, he thought irately. At last, they’d weeded out all the quitters.

“What the hell’s going on out here?” barked Sensei Lawrence. Hawk and Miguel both looked over to see their karate instructor unexpectedly standing outside his office, his face contorted in a pissed-off expression; which, while not out of the ordinary for him, seemed particularly incensed as he watched the whole scene go down. Behind him, observing from the doorway, Sensei Kreese stood silently, arms crossed. “I said, what the hell happened?” shouted Johnny again when nobody responded.

Out of the silence, Raymond was the only one who spoke up. “Uh, it would appear that we’ve lost a few members, Sensei.”

“Shut your gaping piehole, Chubs, I’m not blind! I’m asking _why_ they left!” Sensei Lawrence watched the faces of his students, most of whom looked just as shocked and confused as he was. This was the last thing he needed to have on his plate today. After all, those kids weren’t just his students, but they were also paying customers. A good chunk of money had just walked out that door, at least five monthly paychecks. And so soon after his rent had been raised yet again. He couldn’t afford to keep losing students. Just perfect. And now everyone was going to be tight-lipped? Not on his watch. He caught the brief glance that Mitch shot Hawk, like he was looking to him for advice. Johnny didn’t know what had caused the kids to walk out, but he knew who was going to tell him. “Hawk, in my office, now!”


	3. Creance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creance: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. a light cord attached to the leg of a hawk to prevent escape during training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Karate practice went about as tensely as one might have expected, considering how angry Sensei Lawrence had been to lose several of the new students to Miyagi-Do. Miguel was halfway convinced that he was going to cancel class completely, as he, Aisha, Tory and the others waited outside in the main area of the dojo, giving the occasional uncomfortable glance up at the adjoining office when they heard Sensei’s muffled shouting breaking through the closed door. But, no, he didn’t cancel. After about a solid fifteen minutes of verbal reaming, Sensei Lawrence had stepped back out, followed by a visibly stunned Hawk behind him. But then class resumed as normal.

They all got a bit of residual chewing-out during practice that day, with Sensei Lawrence getting in their faces and telling them that the only one in that dojo allowed to call anyone a derogatory nickname was _him_, because he was the Sensei and they weren’t, and he said that if he caught anyone else doing it again, he’d have them doing burpees until they threw up; then he’d have them get back up and do even more after that. Miguel caught the way Mitch, in particular, looked relieved about that, since that meant none of them could call him Ass-face anymore. At least not to his face.

Miguel had thought it was all a bit of harmless fun, giving the newbies some ribbing. Better the seasoned Cobras try toughening them up a bit, to take some of the bite out of Sensei Lawrence’s insults, since that always seemed to catch the new people off-guard; or at least get them prepared for it, if nothing else. But if Sensei said enough was enough, then that was that, as far as he was concerned. Clearly it hadn’t been completely inoffensive, if that many of them had walked out over it. Miguel was still surprised by it, though. If it bothered them so much, why hadn’t they just said something to them about it?

Miguel hoped Hawk wouldn’t take any of the reprimanding too personally. Sensei Lawrence was under a lot of stress lately, especially with all the beef escalating between him and Mr. LaRusso ever since the latter tried siphoning students away from Cobra Kai with the promises of free classes. And Sensei only had their best interests at heart. Sometimes even Miguel needed some clarification on that when it felt like Sensei Lawrence was being pretty harsh, but he knew it was true; after all, Sensei didn’t have to take him out to the burger place to try and explain his private family situation with Robby Keene and why he hadn’t told them about him during the tournament, but he did so anyways, because he’d wanted Miguel to understand that he really did care and he wasn’t just being a jerk when he punished them.

Hawk had to know that, right? For all his tough talk about being a hardcore badass, Miguel knew his friend could be remarkably thin-skinned about things sometimes. Sometimes he was prone to letting things get to him, of finding insult where insult probably wasn’t intended. Why else would he flip out over a Yelp review, after all?

Once class finished up and he’d changed back into his regular clothes, Hawk reported to Sensei Lawrence for his punishment, which he’d been told would most assuredly be waiting for him. His instructor led him to the room by the hallway, stepping in and flicking on the light switch before presenting Hawk with his task. “Alright, time for you two to get well acquainted,” he said, motioning with his open hand to the toilet, “because you’re gonna be cleaning the toilet for the next two weeks, every day after practice. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Hawk sucked in his bottom lip, both irritated and embarrassed at the indignity of it all. This wasn’t fair. But he had no choice but to say in reply, “Yes, Sensei.”

“Gloves, brush, and bleach are over there,” said Sensei Lawrence, pointing his finger to the box of cleaning supplies that had been left to the side of the sink by whomever had scrubbed the bathroom last. “I’ll get you the mop and bucket. I want this whole room sparkling clean. Looks like it’s been overdue for a while. Get to it!” He waited a moment and watched Hawk as he walked over to the box and put on the yellow rubber gloves before grabbing the bottle of bleach and the scrub brush. Then Johnny stepped out, to get the other materials.

Hesitantly, Hawk knelt down and peered over to look inside the toilet, grimacing at the sight of it. Just when _had_ the thing been last cleaned? Not only was this sentence not fair, it was disgusting. Of course, he knew what Sensei Lawrence would say to that truth if he complained to him about it: so what, life _wasn’t_ fair, who said it was? Deal with it. No mercy. God, wasn’t this just the perfect metaphor for where his life had been heading lately? Right into the crapper, where it belonged.

Hawk untwisted the cap off the bottle of bleach, only to immediately recoil with a slight gag as the strong, potent scent of that assaulted his nostrils; his sinuses were sensitive to the smell of cleaning products. Hawk pulled the collar of his shirt over his nose to mask the lower half of his face, to dull the effect a bit; it wasn’t like Sensei had given him a mask. Then he commenced dumping some of the bleach into the toilet bowl, covering the whole of the inside. How long was he supposed to let it sit before scouring it?

“Aww, what’s the matter, princess?” asked Sensei Lawrence with an amused grin when he stepped back into the bathroom, setting down a bucket of water, a bottle of floor cleaner, and the mop. Spotting the way Hawk was covering his face with his shirt, he goaded further, “That smell too much for you to handle? Oh man, I think Chubs must’ve let out a massive shit in here earlier. Take a big whiff of that! God, what is that? Wendy’s chili? Pretty ripe, huh? Well, get to scrubbin’. I want that toilet so clean I could eat off it, understood?”

Lowering his shirt collar back down, Hawk grumbled under his breath, “Yes, Sensei.”

Sensei Lawrence looked like he was about to say something else, probably a remark about the hostile look Hawk was giving him, when, all of a sudden, his cellphone went off. Pulling his flip-phone out of his pocket, he answered it. “Hey…Oh hey, man.” He immediately stepped out of the bathroom to get some privacy, leaving Hawk alone to carry out his punishment.

As soon as he saw Sensei Lawrence walk into his office, Miguel took his former place just inside the doorway of the bathroom. He’d assumed Sensei was simply going to put Hawk back on mat-scrubbing duty, but he’d went the extra mile. He must’ve been really pissed off. But two weeks of toilet-cleaning wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and Miguel knew that even when Sensei Lawrence was mad, he always had a fair point to make with how he chose to discipline them, even if they didn’t always know what it was at the time. “Don’t forget to clean inside the top part,” he pointed out. When Hawk looked over his shoulder at him, Miguel shrugged innocently. “He’s gonna check, just giving you a head’s up.”

Hawk nodded to acknowledge his friend’s tip before turning back around and scraping the brush hard on the inside of the porcelain bowl. How much manpower was it going to take to get those stains out? “So what,” he said, not wanting to leave uncomfortable silence between them, as that might have led to another topic he didn’t want to engage in at the moment, “you here to tell me that this isn’t so bad?”

Putting his hands in his shorts pockets, Miguel rolled on the heels of his feet and said, “Nope, this sucks just about as much as it seems to. You’re forgetting who it was that had to clean that thing before the rest of you even joined Cobra Kai.” Those weren’t exactly the fondest memories Miguel had of his time since taking up karate, being forced to clean the toilet as part of Sensei Lawrence’s unquestionable methods of getting him to form muscle memory. Miguel had practically helped construct the entire dojo from the ground up, and that included all the dirty work that entailed. He’d certainly done his time.

With a snort of amusement, Hawk pointed out, “Yeah, well back then it was just you and Sensei using it, not the whole dojo. ‘Sucks’ is an understatement. It’s shit, is what it is.”

A cheesy grin spread over Miguel’s face. Appropriate that they’d engage in a bit of toilet humor, huh? “Literally, in this case. Although, if it makes a difference, Chubs didn’t actually blow out the toilet earlier. Sensei’s just pulling your leg with that. At least, I’m pretty sure he is.” Watching while Hawk resumed taking the brush to the toilet, Miguel raised a hand and brought it up to pick at his bottom lip again with his fingers. He knew this was hardly the time or place to bring it up, but he’d been holding his thoughts in all the previous night and now all day, too, since Hawk had avoided him during practice. He couldn’t just put the whole thing behind him. They really needed to have a talk, a _real_ talk about what had happened. “Hey, listen, about the….”

“Diaz, get out of here!” ordered Sensei Lawrence, who had abruptly returned to the bathroom after finishing his call. “This isn’t fraternizing hour, Hawk’s got some work to do and he’s gonna do it alone.”

Quickly bringing his hand down, Miguel gave Hawk a momentarily distressed look before he turned around and passed by his Sensei, stepping back into the dojo. He gasped when he almost walked right into Sensei Kreese, who’d been hovering just outside the bathroom door. How long had he been standing there? The King Cobra gave him a brief, scrutinizing glare from under his thick eyebrows. Miguel didn’t know what to make of that stare, but for some reason it gave him goosepimples again to be on the receiving end of it. He gave Sensei Kreese an awkward nod of respect and then, grabbing his backpack off the floor, he strolled around the mats to head towards the exit.

Turning his attention back to Hawk, Sensei Lawrence told him, “Well, what are you waiting for, don’t just sit there gawking, get back at it. And no listening to your iWalkman or CDpod or whatever you call it these days. You’re here to learn a lesson.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Hawk muttered again, returning his attention back to scrubbing. He couldn’t help but shake his head slightly, blinking in momentary shock. iWalkman, really? Even though he’d made some progress by finally getting a laptop, Sensei really was still an absolute relic, wasn’t he?

Walking back outside the bathroom, Johnny looked up at his old Sensei and quietly said, “I gotta deal with something. Can you man the fort for a while?”

Sensei Kreese nodded. “Of course.”

Motioning over his shoulder with this thumb, Sensei Lawrence added, “Make sure he finishes the whole thing before letting him go. Check the top inside of the toilet, they always try to skimp on cleaning that.”

“Don’t worry,” assured Sensei Kreese, the corners of his mouth creasing into a hard smirk. “I’ll keep a close eye on him.”

As soon as Miguel had stepped outside the dojo into the sweltering hot summer day, he pulled out his cellphone from his pocket. Walking over towards where he parked his scooter, he swiped through the apps until he settled on opening Instagram. He spent the next couple of minutes mentally pretending he’d done it just to check his feed, until he gave up the pretense and plugged Sam’s username into the search bar. Sure enough, she still had him blocked. Well, what did he expect? That she’d just magically decided out of the blue to give him another chance, after all the times she’d already shot him down?

Was Sam ever going to forgive him, Miguel wondered? Would she ever give him a second chance? What in the world did he have to do to convince her that he was sorry? Apparently nothing was good enough. It stirred a sharp bitterness inside Miguel as his thoughts lingered on that. He wanted to only remember the good times between him and Sam, short though their relationship may have been; he wanted to remember only the silliness they shared, the laughter, the absolutely wonderful date they’d had together at Golf n’ Stuff.

But then he couldn’t help but think again of how differently Sam had started acting around him once Robby Keene came into her life. What, did she think Miguel wouldn’t get jealous? How could he not? Especially when she had refused to invite him over to meet her family, even after he’d offered her to come meet his mother and Ya-Ya; meanwhile Robby was practically being treated like a son by the LaRussos.

Miguel frowned, his eyes narrowed, and his grip squeezed tighter around his phone. It wasn’t fair. Yeah, he’d admitted what he’d done was bad, he knew it was his fault that he’d pushed Sam away by getting drunk at the canyon party and trying to start a fight with Robby. But was Sam really going to hold that over him forever? One strike and he was out, was that how the game was played? Nothing that happened between them beforehand indicated that maybe she should even consider things from his perspective? No, of course not. He was the only bad guy in this situation, right?

How much longer was he going to spend chasing a dream? How much more time was he going to waste letting his lingering feelings for Sam eat away at his heart, like a worm consuming at an apple? Would he let that proverbial worm carve it out completely, until it was an empty husk that had nothing more to give? Miguel couldn’t do that. It would devour him from the inside-out if he let it. And he was sick of feeling hurt all the time.

He needed to stop. He needed to counter. He needed to make a move.

Miguel pulled up his text messages on his phone and impulsively he shot out a text to Hawk: _hey text me when you’re done, let’s grab a slice of pizza after_. Putting his phone back in his pocket, Miguel then hopped on his scooter and rode away from the strip mall.

An hour later, Hawk was still swiping the mop back and forth across the floor, getting increasingly irate when the thing only seemed to be spreading dirty water around the tiles, no matter how often he rang it out in the bucket. This was the last of it, and of course it would be the most difficult part. It just made him stew even more at the injustice of this punishment. Between this and the time he and Miguel had to clean mats for calling him out for withholding the fact that Robby was his son, it felt like Sensei Lawrence seemed to love making him do bitch work at the slightest provocation.

Hawk could understand that Sensei Lawrence would be mad that he’d lost a fight against Miyagi-Do, because that made the dojo look bad; and Sensei Lawrence must have felt like it meant Mr. LaRusso was a better Sensei than he was, if his students would lose to them. Hawk himself still felt humiliated about Robby and Sam kicking his ass at the mall. But to ream him over calling the new Cobras mean names? Hawk knew it wasn’t his place to question him, but who the hell was Sensei Lawrence, of all people, to yell at him for that?

Why was it okay for Sensei Lawrence to call them derogatory nicknames, but not Hawk, Miguel, or Aisha? Besides, Hawk knew that Sensei didn’t even care about how the name-calling upset the new students. The only reason he had gotten mad was because they’d walked out over it. Well, who cared? How many times had prospective students walked out because of Sensei Lawrence’s putdowns? Why did Hawk deserve to get punished for it?

Hawk guessed Sensei was like so many others who had the philosophy of “Do as I say, not as I do.” That didn’t sit well with him. Ever since he flipped the script, Hawk looked to others, _especially_ Sensei Lawrence, for who he should be. How was he supposed to imitate Sensei when it came to acting like a cool alpha male, when all Sensei did was chastise him for doing it? What was Hawk doing wrong?

The floor just didn’t want to get clean. Gritting his teeth, Hawk poured more cleaner over the bathroom floor and scrubbed even harder with the mop. The fumes from the products had started to give him a headache. He just wanted it to be over already, so he could get out of there. But the stupid mop wouldn’t absorb the dirt, the thing should’ve been replaced a long time ago. Why couldn’t Sensei Lawrence just get with the damn 21st century already and buy a Swiffer Wet Jet or something?

With a grunt of annoyance, Hawk threw the mop angrily to the ground. Not content with just that, he then struck out with his foot in frustration, kicking the bucket, spilling the dirty water all over the bathroom floor, ruining whatever work he had already accomplished trying to clean it. He stood there, shoulders rising and falling with his quickening breath, his eyes following the bucket as it rolled over to the door, where it bounced against a pair of worn shoes. Following them up to the person who was wearing them, Hawk shrank into his shoulders a little, stammering, “S-Sensei Kreese, I’m sorry….” He shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum like that, he didn’t want to get yelled at by Sensei Kreese, too.

But Sensei Kreese looked more amused than vexed, with that slight smile on his face. That was when Hawk noticed his teacher was holding a Coors Banquet beer in one hand and can of Coke in the other. “Had a little spill, huh?” asked the King Cobra, flashing his white teeth while he hit the empty bucket away with one of his feet. “It’s alright, accidents happen.” Seeing the way Hawk visibly relaxed once he realized he wasn’t going to get in more trouble, Sensei Kreese offered, “Let’s you and me take a five minute break.”


	4. Tiercel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiercel: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. The male of any bird used in falconry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Checking his cellphone yet again, Miguel leaned against the brick building he’d been standing outside of and sighed when it showed no new text messages. Where the hell was Hawk, he wondered? What was taking him so long? He’d texted him that he was finished cleaning and was on his way, and that was twenty minutes ago. Miguel knew it didn’t take that long to drive from Cobra Kai to the pizza joint, they were still well within Reseda, close enough that Miguel had been able to get there by scooter. But just when he was about to shoot off another text, he spotted Hawk’s Sentra finally pulling into the parking lot. About time.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Hawk apologized, giving Miguel a fist bump after walking up to join him by the door.

“No big,” responded Miguel, forcing down his impulse to complain about the wait he’d endured before opening the door for them to go inside. Whatever, it wasn’t that big a deal. “I think you’ll like this place. The pizza here’s great.”

Hawk gave Miguel a fond look, his mouth curling into a smile. “That’s good,” he said, “‘cause I’m starving.”

Miguel felt his own stomach starting to rumble, but he was uncertain whether that was due to hunger or not. “Me, too. Karate practice does that to a guy.”

It was a cheap, by-the-slice sort of place, where the toppings were both generous and greasy, the best combo in Miguel’s opinion. He and Hawk walked up to the counter to look at the special flavors available that day. Several options seemed particularly appetizing and everything smelled mouth-watering. Miguel stroked a thumb over his chin, contemplating over two flavors, like that was seriously the biggest thing on his mind right then. “Which sounds better, you think?” he asked Hawk. “Buffalo chicken or chicken alfredo?”

“Just get both,” answered Hawk, nudging him with his elbow before pulling out a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. “I got this one.” Miguel swallowed a growing lump down his throat that had somehow leapt up there. It wasn’t the first time Hawk had bought him a meal, and now he wondered whether or not this was one of those signs he had previously missed, that maybe Hawk had been throwing in-your-face hints of romantic feelings his way and Miguel just hadn’t noticed. Or was he reading too much into this? God, didn’t he just tell himself he wouldn’t do this? Old habits die hard, he guessed.

“Thanks, man,” was all he could think to say.

He watched while the high school girl behind the counter put his greasy slices on a plate, and then Hawk’s meat lover’s piece on another. She poured them their sodas and then rang them up at the cash register. While giving Hawk his change, not even paying attention to the scar on his lip or his black eye, the girl’s eyes traveled up to his mohawk, and she told him, “By the way, your spikes look amazing.”

Hawk smirked and jutted his chin out. “I know.”

“Was that a connection I saw just happen between you two?” suggested Miguel under his breath between them as they collected their plates and cups and walked away from the counter. “Maybe a little spark? Looks like you had a moment there. Maybe you should ask for her number.”

Hawk shook his head. “Nah, she’s not my type.”

“She complimented your hair. Do you have any other type besides that?” asked Miguel, unable to hold back a grin when Hawk gave his shoulder a playful shove in response.

“Why don’t _you_ ask for her number?” Hawk countered. Miguel rolled his eyes at the mere idea of that. Nothing against the girl, she seemed nice enough. She just wasn’t really his type, either. But his friend kept ribbing him. “C’mon, you’re the champ,” he reminded him for what had to be the hundredth time since the All-Valley Tournament. “You can get any chick you want.”

_Except Sam_, Miguel thought morosely.

They found themselves a quiet booth in the corner, away from the handful of other customers who were busily stuffing their faces in the restaurant. Miguel took the red-pepper shaker and shook a generous portion of the flakes over his pizza slices, saying, “Gotta say, you’re in a pretty decent mood for a guy who just spent, like, two hours cleaning a toilet.”

Busily making it snow parmesan cheese on his own slice, Hawk glanced up at him and said, “That’s what I was gonna tell you. I got caught up talking with Sensei Kreese.”

Miguel set the red-pepper shaker back down and then took his own turn with the parmesan dispenser. “Really?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “What’d he want?”

Taking a bite out of his hot pizza, Hawk explained between chews, “We were just talking about what happened earlier in class. Y’know, about those assholes who walked out today? Sensei Kreese says they were a bunch of pussies who couldn’t cut it, that they were bringing Cobra Kai down. That’s what I thought, too. And that’s what I thought Sensei Lawrence would think. I mean, that’s how he’s always talked about quitters before.”

“Yeah, but Sensei’s rent was raised recently,” Miguel pointed out, taking a sip of his ice-cold Coke. “When you need the money, it doesn’t really matter whether they can cut it, as long as they’re paying.” Sensei had come a long way in learning that lesson, from the days when he’d balked at the novel idea of actually allowing girls to join Cobra Kai, and had adjusted his teaching techniques accordingly. If the new Cobras thought he was harsh now, they would’ve been shocked to know how much more extreme he used to be.

Hawk swallowed another mouthful and replied, “And _that’s_ the only reason he gives a shit. You and I both know he wouldn’t have cared before. You know what Sensei Kreese told me? He said Sensei Lawrence and some of the old Cobras from back in the day used to haze new students, to weed out the weak ones. He said they really liked to rough ‘em up. You ever been hazed? Way worse than anything we ever did to the Asshole Twins.” His expression went sour, and Miguel doubted it had anything to do with the taste of the pizza he was eating. “But he yells at me for calling them names?”

Miguel slowly chewed on a big bite of his buffalo chicken pizza and let that knowledge sink in. He shouldn’t have been surprised at hearing about the hazing. Sensei Lawrence had told him he’d done some stuff in the past he’d come to regret. Undoubtedly that must’ve been an example of something he’d feel sorry about. But he was better than that now, and he wanted all of them to do better, too. So, coming to his Sensei’s defense, Miguel tried to explain, “He just doesn’t want us to make the same mistakes he did. He told me so once.”

Hawk looked at him for a moment before taking a drink of his Diet Coke. “He never told _me_ that,” he mumbled.

Not knowing how to respond to that, Miguel just took a few more nibbles out of both slices of his pizzas instead. He needed to get this conversation going in the direction he’d wanted it to be in when he invited Hawk out to eat in the first place. He didn’t want to talk about the students who had quit that day, or whatever stories Sensei Kreese had to tell, or even Sensei Lawrence’s history. He wanted to talk about the thing. That was why they were there. And, since there was no natural way to segue into it, he just blurted out, “Hey, not to completely switch gears here, but we really need to talk about what happened last night.”

A sharp cough broke out of Hawk, as he almost choked on the bite of pizza he had in his mouth. He took a swig from his soda to wash it down. “Dude, really?” Hawk cast a brief glance around them, verifying they were out of the earshot of any eavesdroppers. Embarrassed, he pushed his plate of unfinished pizza to the side before fumbling with his fingers on the table. So he figured out that was why Miguel had texted him about going out to eat. He must have felt like Miguel had lain a trap for him and he’d been caught in it. “I told you, it didn’t mean anything,” he stressed.

“Oh, well, if it didn’t mean anything, then you shouldn’t have a problem talking about it, right?” asked Miguel, getting increasingly antsy with each word. He shoved the buttery crust that was left of the chicken alfredo slice into his mouth and chewed it irately. He could feel his skin heating up, and his heart was starting to race. Maybe he should’ve been more sympathetic to the fact that Hawk obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but between this and the way Sam was treating him, Miguel was tired of people being so flippant with his feelings. Why should he just take it in stride? Swallowing the food, he added, “And by ‘it,’ I mean you kissing me, just so we’re on the same page. I don’t know about you, but I don’t just randomly kiss people and have it mean nothing. Kind of a dick move, if you ask me.”

“Alright, that’s enough, let’s just change the topic,” Hawk said with a shaky laugh, almost pleadingly. His eyes were starting to dart, and his ears turned pink.

But Miguel wasn’t done. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I embarrassing the Hawk?” he asked, more than a touch testily. “Man, that must suck to be sitting there, all embarrassed like that. Well forgive me for wanting maybe just a little explanation for how it happened. I mean, do you_ like me_ like me? Come on, you don’t flinch from fights anymore. Let’s just get it all out in the open! What, have you always just secretly had a crush on me?” He was being half-hyperbolic on purpose, to mask his own swelling anxiety in brazen defensiveness, but Miguel’s eyebrows slowly raised on his forehead as he watched Hawk look down uncomfortably at his twiddling thumbs. “Oh shit,” he whispered again, as the truth hit him with the full force of a crane kick to the face. “You have, haven’t you?”

Hawk’s expression became guarded and hard to read. His nostrils flared as he took in a few harsh breaths. “Moon meant a lot to me,” he said when he finally spoke. Then he corrected himself, with the present tense, “I mean, she _means_ a lot to me!”

Miguel furrowed his brows in confusion at what seemed like an obvious declaration that came nevertheless out of nowhere. It helped cool him down some. When had he even brought Moon up? “Uh, I’m not saying you’re gay; I mean, it’d be okay if you were. And if you’re bi, that’s fine, I really don’t mind, I’m not even sure if I’m totally straight, I just -”

“That’s not what I meant!” snapped Hawk, slapping one of his hands down on the table, almost tipping over his drink. His eyes got wide and anxious, as it became obvious the conversation was starting to really stress him out. Just then, Miguel thought he looked a lot like the old Eli, despite the spiky red mohawk. His cocky attitude melted away, and he almost tripped over his tongue as he started rambling, “I-I mean, yeah, I liked you, but then Moon wanted to go out with me. I _really_ liked her. She and me, it was supposed to be forever. Then last night she was gone, she left me, and you were there, and – oh fuck!” He buried his face in his trembling hands.

Miguel didn’t say anything at first to that outburst. He didn’t know what to say. He just blinked for a couple minutes, letting it sink in. He absentmindedly reached out a hand to grab his cup, and took a sip of Coke to calm his rattled nerves. When that didn’t help, he rubbed the other hand on the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. What did Hawk see when he looked at him? This went even deeper than he thought. Well, shit. “Um, can you at least tell me when it started?” he asked, breaking the suffocating silence. “Like, when did you know?”

Lowering his hands, Eli’s face got unreadable again, even while his eyes focused hard on the table; the Hawk mask had slipped right back on, just as quickly as it had fallen off. He gave a shrug of his shoulders in response to the question. “I dunno,” he admitted flippantly, creasing his mouth in a frown and picking at a fingernail. At first, Miguel was worried he’d leave it at that, with no more explanation. But then Hawk gave a real response. “Maybe that day at the library during Study Hall, when you told Kyler to back off.”

That made Miguel slouch back in the booth, stunned. Wow, for that long? “Jesus,” he muttered, with a disbelieving shake of his head, running a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to make of that? Miguel suddenly felt small, for some reason. How had he missed this? All of that karate training, countless hours being taught to use vigilance and be aware of his surroundings, and he hadn’t noticed a single thing out of the ordinary from Eli? 

“See?” asked Hawk pointedly; Miguel could hear anger in that question. “I didn’t want to make this weird.”

“It’s already weird,” said Miguel in return. Quickly catching how that might have come across, he forced a half-hearted grin on his face and clarified, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m flattered. Honestly. Obviously you got good taste, if nothing else.”

He hoped that might lighten things up a bit. But Hawk’s eyes just glanced up at him from under a heavy brow, and he told him, “Don’t play with me.” Miguel sighed and took a particularly frustrated bite from his buffalo chicken pizza crust, tearing into the rest of it. Then, looking back down at his hands, Hawk asked him, “Do you hate me?”

Miguel didn’t expect such a vulnerable question from Hawk, of all people; sometimes it was easy for Miguel to forget that under all that styling putty and hairspray, he was still Eli. Shaking his head, he assured him, “No, man, of course not. We’re cool.” He shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve just left it alone. God, why couldn’t he just leave things well enough alone? Why did he have to obsess over shit all the time? Was it just some irritating, innate part of himself? He guessed Hawk wasn’t the only one susceptible to tunnel vision when he had his mind on a goal.

Right then, Miguel wanted to make things normal again. He wanted to make things right. He wanted to laugh. It would feel good to laugh. It would make him forget how awkward and weird this had become. It would make him stop looking at Hawk the way he currently was, it would make him stop wondering things, it would stop him from doing something he might regret. _What are you afraid of_? he asked himself.

But he couldn’t bring himself to laugh. Nothing about the situation seemed particularly funny. Instead, he just looked over at his friend’s abandoned plate and asked him, “You gonna finish your pizza?”

Hawk drummed his fingers against the table and shrugged. “I’m not hungry,” he responded.

He didn't believe Hawk, but Miguel reached over and took the half-eaten slice and polished it off himself anyways, drowning it with the remainder of his Coke, to settle the rumbling in his stomach with more food. It didn’t work. They didn’t say anything more at the table, either. Once they were done, they tossed their trash into the bin and walked out of the restaurant. The sun was getting orange as evening was approaching in the blue and purple sky, which helped cool the weather down a bit, so it wasn’t too unbearably hot. 

Miguel was fully prepared to jump on his scooter and pedal off, when Hawk called out, “Put that in the trunk, if you want, I’ll give you a ride.” He unlocked his car with the clicker, and Miguel couldn’t think of a compelling reason to decline his offer. A ride sounded nice. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes for Hawk to drive him home to his apartment complex. So, storing his scooter in the back, he climbed into the passenger’s seat while Hawk started the engine. The air conditioning immediately blasted on, followed by the rock music he had the radio set to.

The car drive home was as quiet as it had been between them at the end of their meal at the restaurant, with the exception of the music playing. Miguel tried to pay attention to the lyrics, but found he wasn’t into it. He occasionally gave a glance over at Hawk, whose eyes remained focused on the road. Miguel hoped he’d say something first. He mentally chastised himself for that, since the very first lesson of Cobra Kai was all about learning to strike first. But he couldn’t think of what to say to break the ice. Normally he was good about that sort of thing. But right now? Miguel felt in over his head. It almost felt like he was drowning. It made him remember the time Sensei pushed him into the pool. Miguel was stronger than that, he’d proven himself to be.

Less than ten minutes later, Hawk pulled his car into the parking lot at the apartments where Miguel lived, putting the vehicle in park. Miguel glanced out the passenger window, expecting to see Sensei’s black-and-yellow car, but it was nowhere to be found. Must have meant that Sensei was still out somewhere. Maybe he was still at the dojo. “You getting out?” Hawk asked suddenly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, like he had somewhere else pressing he needed to be. Miguel had the suspicion, however, that he would be going straight home himself after this.

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.” But even after saying those words, Miguel didn’t move from his seat. All he did was undo his seatbelt, but he remained where he was seated. What was he waiting for?

It made Hawk finally look over at him. He and Miguel shared a glance, before Hawk pulled his eyes away again. “I told you, don’t play with me,” he said, almost like a warning.

“What if….” Miguel trailed off for a second, licking his bottom lip. What if what? Alright. Enough. He then glared at Hawk and steeled himself. Be a Cobra. Make a move. Go all-in. “Do it again,” he said firmly. 

Hawk pinched his brows together at the bridge of his nose. “Do what?”

“You know what,” Miguel responded decidedly. Hawk still looked confused by his demand. Then he must have figured it out, as Miguel could see the realization light up in his face. And he paused for a minute, being much safer than he had been the previous night in the back of the dojo. That wasn’t the Hawk that Miguel needed right now. He needed bold, audacious, fuck-the-consequences Hawk. And Miguel had made it clear he wasn’t getting out of the car until he did what he said. So, turning off the engine, Hawk unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over.

The kiss was clumsy at first, closed-mouthed and hesitant. Hawk reached a hand around to cradle the back of Miguel’s neck, to steady him, so the contact could linger for a few moments longer. This was what he wanted, right? Miguel’s heart thumped in his chest so loudly he would’ve sworn his friend beside him could hear it, and even though he was sitting down, it felt like his legs had turned to jelly. He had missed that feeling. He hadn’t felt it since Sam broke up with him.

When Hawk pulled back, Miguel’s eyes were wide as he stared at him, once more momentarily stunned by the action, even though he had demanded it. But this time he didn’t stay frozen. It felt like a fuse inside him blew, and Miguel took hold of Hawk’s jaw with both his hands to pull him back in, pressing their lips together; he wasn’t going to let Hawk run off again. The silence of the car heightened the sound of fast breathing, of stifled groans, and Hawk’s hand was on the back of his neck again, pulling him closer, drawing out their more intense, open-mouthed kisses.

Once they broke apart, Hawk’s nostrils flared again as he took a couple of deep breaths. “So,” he asked softly, “we’re really doing this?”

Miguel’s whole face felt hot, and he was so glad that his blushing cheeks were unnoticeable. “You said I’m the champ, right?” he asked back, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts.

“Yeah.”

“That means I can get anyone I want, right?”

“…Yeah.”

Miguel smiled. “Still think I’m a bad kisser?”

Hawk returned the smile. “You weren’t bad.”


	5. Passager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passager: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. A raptor of any age that was originally taken for falconry training while in juvenile plumage, usually on its first migration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left a kudo/comment!

Miguel splashed warm water on his face, rinsing off the residual shaving cream. Grabbing the nearby towel, he wiped his face next, reaching over with his other hand to turn off the faucet. A quick glance at the bathroom mirror showed he’d done a good job shaving off the shadow of stubble that had grown on his lip overnight. No way did he want to grow a mustache yet. Sensei Lawrence would have probably said that a real man should at least grow it out once, to test it out, but Miguel didn’t think it would look good on him yet. And he was sure his mom wasn’t ready for that, either. Maybe when he was in college.

“Good morning, Miggy,” greeted his mother when Miguel walked into the kitchen after finishing up in the bathroom. She was already at the table, cutting her knife and fork into a stack of pancakes she had on her plate. Miguel guessed she would be leaving for the hospital immediately after breakfast, since she had on her nurse’s uniform, probably for another long shift. Meanwhile, his Ya-Ya was busy at the stove, just finishing whipping up another batch of pancakes, which she piled on a plate and set down for Miguel on the kitchen table.

“Morning,” Miguel greeted back, putting his phone down beside the plate so he could grab the bottle of maple syrup nearby. His poured the sugary liquid liberally over his flapjacks before taking a forkful and stuffing it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. Fewer things tasted better than his Ya-Ya’s pancakes. 

Carmen Diaz then told her son, “So, guess who has a date tonight?”

A grin lit up Miguel’s face. “Really?” he asked. His mother nodded back, taking another bite of her own food. “No way! Mom, that’s great! How did this happen?”

From where she was flipping another flapjack on the pan with her spatula, Rosa answered in Spanish, “_She set up a profile on one of those dating apps that everyone’s crazy about. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Your mother’s been swiping right so much, her finger must be sore_.” She shot a wink over her shoulder at her daughter.

“That’s really great, Mom,” said Miguel again. “I hope he turns out to be a great guy.” He was glad his mom was dating again. It had been a really long time, and Miguel wanted her to be happy. It wasn’t fair that she hadn’t found someone else yet. She deserved to be happy with someone who would treat her right. 

“Thanks,” returned his mother with a smile. “I hope so, too.”

That got him thinking of his own situation again. Now would be a good time to bring it up, since they were on the subject of dating. He’d been given a golden opportunity. Best grab hold of it. Swallowing a drink of orange juice, Miguel picked up his phone and scrolled through some of the texts he and Hawk had spent the previous night sending one another. Hawk had asked him: _so how are we gonna do this?_

Miguel hadn’t really known how to respond. It seemed like too big a question. All he’d been able to say back was:_ let’s just go with the flow, see where we end up._

Right, go with the flow. Great advice. Hawk must not have really liked that response, considering he didn’t have anything to say to it. Miguel wished he could have said something more concrete, more confident, because neither of them seemed to know just what to do next. But, if nothing else, they’d both agreed that the sooner they told their families, the better. After all, it wasn’t like it was during the 1980s, it shouldn’t be a big deal to tell their families that they were, what? Boyfriends? Were they at that point yet? To Miguel, boyfriend didn’t feel like the right word, but what other term was there to call the friend you practically made out with in his car last night? 

Miguel still wasn’t so sure, and that uncertainty was leaving him feeling insecure. He’d tried voicing those concerns in their texts when he’d asked: _hey so are your parents gonna care that I’m…y’know???_

His self-doubt wasn’t exactly settled when all Hawk texted back with was a joke:_ what? catholic? nah as long as we raise the kids jewish my parents won’t care. _

He could appreciate the attempt at humor, but it did nothing to help quell his anxiety. A part of him felt guilty; it felt like he was cheating on Sam. He had to remind himself that that was ridiculous. He and Sam had been broken up for a while, and she’d taken every available opportunity to remind Miguel that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. She didn’t even want to talk things out. So what did he have to feel guilty about?

“So,” spoke up his mother suddenly, eyeing the way he was looking at his phone while taking a drink of the hot tea from her mug, “what’s been going on with you lately? You’ve seemed awfully busy in your room the past couple of nights. Anything new?”

Miguel blinked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Huh?”

“_He was up late texting last night_,” added Rosa, knifing butter on her plate of flapjacks. “_He had that goofy smile on his face. Probably texting a girl, huh?_” Miguel looked at his grandmother like she had just turned him over to the police. The betrayal. But Rosa just grinned and tapped the end of her nose playfully, reaching over and refilling his glass with more orange juice before sitting down at the table to eat her own breakfast. 

Carmen smiled warmly at her son. “Is that true, Miggy?” She’d probably be thrilled to hear he’d moved on from being dumped by Sam, considering how mopey he’d been on-and-off since then.

“Well, sort of,” Miguel responded, then broke for a moment to take in another forkful of syrupy pancakes; it also gave him a minute to collect his thoughts, to try and pull them from a jumbled mess into something resembling coherency. Say it. Just say it. “I mean, yeah, I was texting. But not a girl.” Was that enough of a hint, he hoped?

Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Carmen collected her dishes and stood up to take them to the kitchen sink. She asked, “Oh, just one of your karate friends?” 

Damn it. Not enough. “Uh, yeah. Just one of my karate friends,” he answered truthfully, stabbing at his pancakes with his fork. He bit on his bottom lip, sucking on the lingering syrup that had coated it. It wasn’t right. He couldn’t hide this from them. It would eat him alive if he tried to hide it. “Actually,” he expounded, “I was texting Hawk.”

“_The one with the hair like a rooster?_” asked his Ya-Ya, making a motion with her hand at the top of her head.

“Yeah,” answered Miguel, unable to keep the corner of his mouth from curling at that remark. In his mind, he pictured what happened in the car between him and Hawk, of him bringing their lips together, of Hawk’s hand on the back of his neck. It had felt good. He had nothing to feel guilty about. “He and I, we, uh, we might be going out,” he finally admitted.

His mother just about walked by him, only saying, “Where to? The movies, the mall?”

Oh for God’s sake. Miguel rubbed his hands down his face in frustration before blurting out, “No, I mean we might be _going out_ going out. Like, together. Y’know, dating and all that stuff.” He sunk some in his seat, embarrassed yet relieved that at least it was finally out in the open. Let the chips fall where they may now.

That got his mother to pivot back around on her feet in a second, and his grandmother to pause a forkful of food halfway to her mouth, as they both looked at him, shocked. Eyebrows started to raise and mouths hung a little agape, and Miguel started to worry he’d messed up somehow. 

But then Carmen walked up to her son, and was soft in how the smile returned to liven up her features. “Miggy,” she breathed, reaching a hand down to comb her fingers once through his dark hair, just like she used to do when he was little. “Since when…?”

Miguel let out a sigh of relief. He ought to have known his mother wouldn’t freak out over something like this. Of course she wouldn’t. She loved him, she’d always made that point clear to him. “Um, I guess I might be bi?” he said, enunciating it like a question, unsure still how he felt with how to label himself. “And things between me and Hawk just started yesterday. Don’t worry, I haven’t been hiding anything from you. We just, uh, decided to give things a shot. See how they turn out.”

His mother’s hand traveled down to brush his cheek. “I’m happy to hear that,” she said. “I hope things turn out good for you, too.” She patted his cheek again before walking away, knowing she had to leave for work. But she gave Miguel another smile over her shoulder before grabbing her purse. “I have to go. I’ll be back later this evening. If you want to talk more, I’ll listen.”

It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of Miguel’s shoulders then. He didn’t know exactly what he would talk to his mother about specifically, or if he would even take her up on that offer, but it meant a lot that she took everything so well. It made it all a thousand times easier for him to cope with. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, watching as she left the door, before turning his attention back to his breakfast.

As he brought his cup of orange juice back up to take a drink, he caught the way his Ya-Ya grinned at him, with a raised eyebrow. “_The one with the hair_?” she laughed again.

Over at his home in Encino, Hawk went about the finishing touches of his morning routine, with styling his liberty spikes. The ones in the back were the hardest to get right. He’d had to hang up a mirror on the wall near the towel rack to reflect back on the main bathroom mirror, so he could see the back of his head properly. He took out the hair clip from the last section that had been fastening it in place. Then, taking a dime-sized squeeze of gel, he formed it into the same shape as the others he’d already assembled. 

The extra-hold hairspray came next, as he worked it from the scalp up to get it to hold its shape. After that, all he had to do was blow-dry it in place. He was still getting used to forming this new mohawk. It wasn’t that much more difficult than the fanning style he’d previously sported. It just took longer. About an hour altogether, from start to finish. But it was worth it.

Once he was done, Hawk gave a final glance at his reflection in the mirror. His mohawk looked perfect, he thought confidently; if only his face could catch up to it. He gingerly touched the bruise on his left cheekbone, the symbol of his loss to Miyagi-Do. At least it wasn’t sore anymore. It was looking a little better, it would probably be completely gone in the next couple of days. Which was more than could be said for that ugly scar.

Hawk left his room and walked into the kitchen, where his parents were already finishing up their breakfast. His mom was beginning to clean up the table, while his dad was drinking his coffee. They had left him a plate of eggs, turkey bacon, and a bagel. None of it looked particularly appetizing to Hawk at the moment. He guessed he hadn’t quite gotten his appetite back from yesterday yet.

“Ah, so look who dragged himself out of bed. Maybe one of these mornings, you’ll come say hello to your parents _before_ you worry about fixing your hair first,” said Simon Moskowitz with a small smile, taking a sip from his cup of coffee as Hawk sat down at the table. He watched for a minute while Hawk just silently started picking at his eggs with his fork. “Did you sleep well?” he asked more seriously. “I thought I heard you up around four in the morning.”

It was too early for Hawk to deal with this, especially with everything else on his mind. He almost wanted to laugh at his dad’s question, though. When did he _ever_ sleep well? “I was up for a couple hours after my alarm,” he explained, knowing he at least didn’t need to specify which alarm he was talking about to them. “I couldn’t go back to sleep right away. I just killed some time watching TV.”

Ruth gave her son a sympathetic look as she handed him a glass of milk she’d finished pouring for him. “If it’s getting worse again, we could always schedule a visit with the doctor,” she suggested.

“No!” snipped Hawk. Catching the harsh glare of warning his father instantly shot him for raising his voice, he tried again, more restrained. “I mean, it won’t make any difference. The alarm’s working fine.” He shouldn’t have been giving them any attitude. In fact, he should have appreciated how understanding they had been with him lately. He’d gotten off lucky when it came to receiving any meaningful punishment for the mall fight, when they could have very well destroyed him. Then again, maybe they were only feeling sorry for him, since he’d told them how Moon had dumped him that night.

“Still,” said his mother, with a shake of her head while she collected the dirty plates and glasses, “three nights in a row, after going so long between accidents. I don’t like that. It might be a good idea to go in for a check up.”

Hawk frowned. He didn’t want to keep on with this conversation. It was embarrassing enough to live with the problem, the last thing he wanted to do was acknowledge its existence more by talking about it. Nothing good ever came from talking about it. If his parents wanted to be that way, he would take control of the morning talk and throw them a real curve ball. “Miguel and I are going out now,” he said bluntly before taking a drink of milk.

He watched how his dad glanced at his mom, at the way their eyes got real big. They just looked at one another, completely dumbfounded by his declaration. He expected them to smile at each other, to think to themselves, _Oh thank goodness, him getting into a relationship wasn’t just a one-time thing_. But they didn’t smile. Instead, they looked visibly worried. That confused Hawk. He thought they would’ve been happy for him.

He liked Miguel. He _really_ liked Miguel. Just like he had _really_ liked Moon. It was the same thing, in his mind. They both made him feel the same way. So yeah, that must’ve made him bi, like Miguel said at the pizza place. He didn’t think that would be a big deal to people like his parents, who had told him four years ago that it would be okay for him to explore who he was attracted to. He thought they would be relieved their loser son was dating _anyone_, regardless of their gender.

They didn’t look relieved. At all. And that frustrated him. “Are you guys upset about that?” he asked, setting his glass back down.

Across the table, his dad shook his head and assured him, “No, Eli, we’re not upset. Just, well, a bit shocked.”

“Why?” asked Hawk, rubbing his finger pad against the edge of the plate in front of him. “I’ve told you guys about Miguel before.  You’ve met him, you follow him on Instagram.  He’s my friend. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” 

“We want you to know, we have absolutely no problem with you dating a boy,” his mother emphasized, sitting down in the chair beside him. She had that maternal concern in her voice, like she was in Mom Mode. She only did that when she was really worried; which, granted, was often, when it came to him. “But, honey, don’t you think it’s a little…soon to throw yourself into a whole new commitment? It’s barely been two days since you told us about your girlfriend breaking things off. Now you’re saying you’re dating Miguel? That’s moving things awfully fast. Are you sure about this? It’s okay if you’re still feeling bad about Moon.”

Hawk bristled at his mother’s tone. How dare she treat him like a child, like he didn’t know what he was doing? He was sixteen years old, not six. She just wanted him to stay a little momma’s boy forever, something she could take care of. Didn’t she understand that he was practically a man now? And loneliness as a man was ten times worse than loneliness as a boy. Hawk didn’t want to be alone.

So Hawk countered defensively, “So what, am I just supposed to sit in my room crying about it? Feeling sorry for myself? Is that what you want me to do?” Maybe sniveling crybaby Eli would have done that, but not Hawk. That wasn’t the Cobra way. That wasn’t how an alpha acted.

“That’s not what we’re saying,” responded his father, setting his coffee cup back down after taking a big gulp from it. “But you should give yourself some time to process your feelings.” Hawk rolled his eyes; his dad sounded like a damn therapist. “I’ve been there, too, son. I know how it feels to get swept up in first love, how you think it’s going to last forever, only for it to suddenly end. Then you’re feeling lonely, and you don’t know what to do. You just feel lost. That’s scary, I get that. But you need to deal with that first. So I think you should take things slow for a while.”

He hated hearing what his dad was telling him. What did he know about anything? Hawk scoffed at his advice, not in a mood to be reasonable. He wasn’t about to yield on this. “Too late for that,” he said, pushing his plate of food away. “I already kissed him. And he kissed me back. We’re gonna see where things go.” His parents gave each other another look. They probably thought he was out of his mind. But he’d given Miguel the chance to forget it had ever happened. His friend was the one who had pursued it. So the blame couldn’t be only on his shoulders anymore.

His mother forced a strained, sad smile on her face and touched his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, see where things go. We’ll be here to support you.”


	6. Jesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesses: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. The straps put on the legs of a raptor in order for it to be properly held by a falconer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once more to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

When they next had karate practice, Hawk told Miguel he’d pick him up at his apartment and give him a ride. That was a perk Miguel could get used to pretty fast, having a reliable means of transpiration to Cobra Kai, other than his scooter, bike, or the occasional ride from Sensei Lawrence. Tossing his bag in the back seat, he climbed into the passenger’s side and told Hawk, “I don’t see Sensei’s car. Guess he’s already at the dojo.” He hooked his seatbelt and glanced over from the window at the parking space Sensei Lawrence’s black-and-yellow car would normally be.

“Catch!”

A bag of skittles landed in Miguel’s lap, pulling him from his observation. Picking it up, he asked Hawk, “What’s this for?”

“Grabbed some candy at the gas station when I filled up earlier, figured you’d want something,” explained Hawk, driving out of the parking lot. Giving Miguel an amused look, he asked back, “Do I need a reason?”

“I guess not,” Miguel responded with a simple smile before ripping open the top of the package. “Thanks.” It probably wasn’t the best idea to eat something so high in sugar before practice, but screw it, he thought. He took a few of the multi-colored candies and popped them into his mouth before reaching over at the A/C duct in front of him to adjust it, so he could feel the cool air better. Yet another hot day in California; must’ve been a day that ended in y. “So, are we gonna tell the others at Cobra Kai? About us?”

Hawk shot him a quick glance before returning his attention back to the road, coming to a stop at a red light. “If you want, we can,” he said, discretely fidgeting with the hem of his shirt with the hand not on the steering wheel. A part of him was hesitant, that weak-willed Eli part, but he knew Miguel would more than likely be sensitive to the mere idea of a hidden relationship, considering how Sam had treated him. Probably the whole reason he was even asking.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not a big deal right?” Miguel asked, picking out a couple cherry-flavored skittles to eat. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than the boy beside him. “I don’t think anybody will even care.”

“If anyone says anything, I’ll put them in their place real fast,” promised Hawk, releasing the break when the light turned green. He had fought hard for his status as one of the most badass fighters in Cobra Kai; he’d made it all the way to the semi-finals at the All-Valley Tournament. He dared any of the other students to open their mouths and say something. “Nobody fucks with the Hawk, or his guy,” he added cockily. 

Miguel chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, so I’m ‘your guy’ now?”

Raising his brows in mock surprise, Hawk retorted, “Well I figured you wouldn’t want me to call you my bitch, would you?” He would never have made a joke like that with Moon, nor would he have wanted to, even in jest. But certain things were easier between guys.

“Yeah, no, if you could avoid that, that’d be great,” replied Miguel with another amused snort. “But I don’t think you gotta worry about any of the guys at the dojo saying anything. If you want, we could try the subtle approach, see if the others pick up on it.” Catching the look Hawk gave him, a cheesy grin spread over Miguel’s face and he shook his head again. “Oh wait, I forgot who I was talking to. So, I’m guessing we opt for the less-than-subtle approach?”

Hawk smirked. “Don’t be such a nerd. Just make a post on Instagram about it; make it Social Media Official. The others can find out that way,” he suggested. _Maybe Moon and Sam could find out that way_, he thought meanly; although Sam had blocked Miguel, hadn’t she? A beat later, Hawk quickly amended, “Uh, but keep it appropriate, you know my parents will see it, too.”

Nodding, Miguel said, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. About posting it on Instagram, I mean.” He pulled his cellphone out of his pants pocket, turned on the camera, and took a quick selfie with Hawk in the background. He thought for a long minute how he wanted to word the message. Maybe straight forward was best. Keep it simple. No big deal. Just getting a ride to Cobra Kai with the new BF. No, don’t leave it ambiguous. Not BF. Boyfriend. There. Posted, for everyone to see. The deed was done.

Since he already had the app up, Miguel next clicked on Hawk’s username and scrolled through his pictures, all the way to the end. There weren’t as many altogether as he’d thought there’d be. One would’ve thought with the way Hawk always acted, he would have had more selfies posted than he did. Miguel had been following him long enough to spot the fact that some old photos were missing; all of the selfies of himself before he’d become Hawk, back when he was just Eli. Miguel didn’t understand why Hawk would delete all of them. He thought it might’ve been fun to remember what the old Eli used to look like.

One of the icons showed him his post already had an alert. Heh, Bert had liked the post. That made Miguel feel better. Until he remembered the next step. First, tell the family. Next, tell the friends. After them, that left one other big person that they had to decide whether or not to tell. This one was going to be the hardest. Rubbing the back of his neck, Miguel swallowed the candy in his mouth and voiced the question on his mind. “Um, so are we gonna tell Sensei?”

Hawk’s jaw clenched. “Why would we tell Sensei?” he asked defensively, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat just thinking about how that would go. Was Miguel being serious? For real? What was he even thinking? “Why would we tell _either_ of them?”

His eyes widening, Miguel immediately clarified, “Oh no, I had zero plans on telling Sensei Kreese anything!”

“Good. Same,” Hawk agreed. He wasn’t dumb. Sensei Kreese may have been the OG badass, but he was also almost eighty years old. He was just from a different time. Chances were high that he wouldn’t understand. And Sensei Kreese actually liked Hawk. He didn’t want to risk losing the King Cobra’s respect.

Watching out the window while they made a right-hand turn, Miguel emphasized, “Yeah, I _really_ don’t want Sensei Kreese to find out. I mean, at the risk of profiling, he’s pretty old. Probably has some outdated ideas in that department, you know what I mean? So maybe around him we should keep it on the down low?”

“So you’re saying we should keep the PDA at Cobra Kai to a minimum?” joked Hawk, arching an eyebrow suggestively. “No more sucking face in the back of the dojo?”

Miguel chewed on some more skittles and grinned again. “Sorry to crush any fantasies you might have had, but yeah, that might be the best call for now.” Miguel, always the pragmatist. He wasn’t done making his case, though. “But maybe we should try and tell Sensei Lawrence,” he advocated. “He’ll probably be a little shocked and confused at first, but I think he’ll mostly be okay with it?” He contorted his shoulders into a grimacing shrug as he said that, like he barely believed what he was telling Hawk.

He wanted to believe it, though. Sure, Sensei Lawrence had barely progressed past 1989 in a lot of areas, but he wasn’t an unreasonable man. He’d shown a willingness to learn, to put one foot into the 21st century finally. And he’d already told Miguel that he didn’t want to fail him like he’d failed Robby for so long. Sensei said he’d always be on his side. Surely that meant he’d at least try to understand this, right? Once Miguel explained things to him?

Hawk didn’t see it that way. “I think we should just let Sensei see what he wants to see,” he countered, turning on the road that would lead them to the strip mall. He’d made the mistake of assuming Sensei Lawrence could be reasonable once before, when they’d asked him about Robby. Never again. Hawk considered the situation the same as it was with Sensei Kreese. Sensei Lawrence was cool, but he was still a relic. And he wasn’t interested in any colorful nicknames their instructor might come up with if telling him the truth went badly.

Not wanting to concede, Miguel said, “I don’t think I should hide this from him.” And he didn’t want to, truthfully. He saw the situation more akin to coming out to their families. Sensei Lawrence was, in many ways, the closest thing to a father Miguel had ever had. He needed Hawk to understand that. “And better that I break the ice with him than he figure it out on his own. Then he’ll probably just consider it a betrayal, or something.”

Both of them were spared from coming to a decision on that subject when karate class started and it turned out Sensei Lawrence wasn’t even there that day. All of the students were surprised to see Sensei Kreese alone in the dojo, taking charge of the lesson, looking imposing in his black gi despite his age. He explained that Sensei Lawrence was away on bereavement, that an old friend of his had passed away; he would probably be gone for at least the new few days minimum, to take care of his affairs. 

Part of Miguel felt relieved to hear that, since it gave him some more time to figure out how he would explain things to Sensei Lawrence whenever he came back. Plenty of time to play what-if scenarios in his head and drive himself bonkers with anxiety. Then he immediately berated himself for thinking that. His Sensei had just lost a dear friend, one of the old Cobras, and all Miguel could think about was his own situation? How selfish could he be?

Sensei Kreese assured the students that not only would classes resume as normal in Sensei Lawrence’s absence, but their “real training” would truly begin. That thought excited Hawk and confused Miguel. The King Cobra had them set up a mock tournament, where they competed against one another in one-on-one fights. That was normal enough, Sensei Lawrence had them do that plenty of times before. But unlike with Sensei Lawrence, Sensei Kreese didn’t let them stop once they landed a point. 

He ordered the winner to finish the fight. No mercy to the enemy. That didn’t sit right with Miguel, and he voiced his concerns about why they should go that extra step once a point had already been scored; he missed the perplexed look Hawk shot at him for that. It all accumulated in the lesson Sensei Kreese wanted to drive home in the heads of his students, when he sternly told them, “In a tournament, the fighting stops when you land a point. But in the real world, it’s not about scoring points. It’s about being a winner or a loser. And there are no losers in this dojo.”

That lesson was a pretty bitter pill to swallow.

After everyone changed into their normal clothes once class was finished, Miguel thought he would be able to at least keep Hawk company while he continued to carry out his punishment in cleaning the bathroom. He was his ride, after all, he couldn’t leave until Hawk was done. But Miguel thought against it when he saw Sensei Kreese standing just outside the bathroom, near the hallway, giving him a hard look. Maybe he was still vexed that Miguel had spoken out in class, that he’d challenged his teaching methods. That made Miguel cringe a bit in shame. Should he apologize? It wasn’t his place to question Sensei’s Sensei, was it?

But what would Sensei Lawrence say to some of the stuff that Sensei Kreese told them? Hadn’t he been trying to teach them the difference between no mercy and no honor? Miguel still didn’t completely understand, but he was sure that Sensei Kreese wasn’t making any distinction. Miguel’s gut feeling told him something was off. And he couldn’t stand the way Sensei Kreese was currently glaring at him, making him feel like something stuck under a microscope.

Instead of facing the King Cobra, Miguel called out to Hawk that he’d be waiting for him outside. It wouldn’t take Hawk near as long this time to clean everything, since he’d scoured the bathroom so thoroughly before. Half an hour at most, Miguel figured. So he left Hawk alone with Sensei Kreese and went out the door. 

He ended up talking with Aisha and Tory in the parking lot. They had a few questions about what was going on between him and Hawk, to say the least, after seeing his post on Instagram. Miguel explained the circumstances as best he could. Aisha pushed her backpack strap up her shoulder as she told him, “I think you were pretty understanding of him kissing you out of nowhere like that. Surprise kisses are those things that really only work in romance novels. Like, yeah, he most likely got his signals crossed somewhere, but I still probably would’ve slapped him. I mean, not too hard, he’s still a friend.”

“Two alphas, huh?” remarked Tory with a cocked, sharp eyebrow. “This ought to be interesting.” Miguel would’ve sworn he heard some disappointment in the tone of her voice. He then remembered how she’d invited him out to spend some time together that day at Applebee’s, after she’d dragged his video project. Now he couldn’t help but wonder how things might’ve turned out different, had he accepted her offer then, instead of going to Cobra Kai.

Miguel admitted to them, “I’m just glad you guys are cool with it.” Things were going much more smoothly than he thought they would. He didn’t know why he’d gotten himself so worked up with concern. He should’ve known his friends better than that. Maybe after Sam, he just couldn’t put up with the idea of rejection anymore, no matter how unlikely.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” asked Tory with a smart grin and a shrug. “I consider myself to be pretty heteroflexible, too.” 

Aisha looked Miguel straight in the face and patted his arm once. “Hey, I’m just glad to hear you’re not cyber-stalking Sam anymore. I say this as your friend, who loves and respects you, but from a girl’s perspective? It was starting to get a little creepy, to be honest.”

“Really?” asked Miguel, eyes widening, hurt by the criticism. “It was that bad?”

Glancing beside her at Aisha, Tory crossed her arms and shook her head. “I tried to tell him, girls don’t like desperate guys. You really should’ve seen the thing he was working on to get his ex back. _Yikes_, is all I’ll say.”

Miguel sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. Well now he felt like shit. He was just trying to follow Sensei Lawrence’s advice about never giving up the pursuit, he hadn’t meant to cross any line. “Okay, one of these days, one of you just needs to sit me down and explain to me where’s the thin line between romantic gesture and desperate creeper?”

“Oh, I could tell you that right now,” Aisha responded back without skipping a beat. “It was when you called Sam using my phone after she blocked your number, that was the line.”

“Ah. Noted.” Miguel grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck.

Aisha looked at Tory and asked her, “Anyway, you up for a Jamba Juice? Practice kicked my ass today, and I’m dying of thirst. My treat.”

“Ah, ‘my treat,’ my two favorite words in the English language. Oh you know I’m up for that, you don’t even gotta ask,” responded Tory, wrapping her arm over Aisha’s shoulders; a gesture which Aisha returned, and the two started walking amiably across the parking lot.

Looking between them, over their shoulders, Aisha called out to Miguel, “Hey, you wanna come with?”

“Hawk’s my ride,” pointed out Miguel, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. He took a quick glance at his cellphone after pulling it from his pocket. “But he should be done soon, if you guys wanna wait another, I don’t know, ten minutes? Then we can just all go together.”

Aisha and Tory both nodded. “Sure.”

Meanwhile, inside the dojo, Hawk listened attentively to Sensei Kreese, while he went about mopping the bathroom floor. The King Cobra was regaling him with another story about a time when he’d been sent to take down a warlord who’d been terrorizing a helpless village. “First the cowards tried to shield themselves behind women and children,” went on Sensei Kreese, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, gesticulating with one of his hands, “but we managed to get them to safety and catch those bugs in a corner. Of course they opened fire on us as soon as we zeroed in on them.”

“You didn’t lose a lot of men, did you?” asked Hawk with furrowed brows, leaning against the mop handle as he stopped his motions for a minute, too enthralled by the story to pay any attention to cleaning.

Sensei Kreese shrugged a shoulder. “Not as many as you’d think. We outsmarted those bastards, surrounded them on all sides. They had nowhere to run. We gunned them down, whole thing was over in just a few minutes.”

“And you turned them in for their warcrimes?” asked Hawk, this time with a small grin.

Arching an amused eyebrow, Sensei Kreese inquired, “Who was there to turn in? We were there off the books, to finish the problem, not to serve as namby-pamby, toothless watchdogs for the UN. We didn’t leave any survivors. If someone starts shooting at you and your men, you shoot back. Basic self-defense. None of this standing around, worrying are-we-doing-the-right-thing horseshit. You protect yourself, or you die.” He watched while Hawk reflected on that. “Does that make sense?”

Hawk nodded. “Yes, Sensei.”

Crossing his arms, Sensei Kreese gave him an inscrutable look and asked, “You ever consider a career in the military? Once you turned eighteen, of course.”

The question caught Hawk off-guard. He felt forced to admit, “I don’t think I could. The doctor says I’m probably autistic.” With that on his medical record, they wouldn’t let him join, even if he wanted to. Not that he ever felt any real burning desire to do that anyways; just the idea of bootcamp alone had freaked Eli out whenever he saw it portrayed in movies. But he did like listening to Sensei Kreese’s war stories though, for the same reason he’d used to enjoy reading comic books, back when he was Eli. He liked stories of vigilantes who took justice into their own hands, of stories where good guys triumphed over evil. 

“Aaaah,” Sensei Kreese responded smoothly, raising both his brows. Hawk did not know what he meant by that. For a moment, he was worried that his instructor might be disappointed in him, or that he was going to make some comment on it. But then a smirk spread over Sensei Kreese’s hard mouth and he rolled his shoulder again. “Meh, shrinks. What do they know?” Hawk smiled at that. The King Cobra then said, “Alright, I think we’ll call it a day. Rinse out the bucket, then you can go.”


	7. Hacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hacking: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. (used of a falconer) To give a young raptor complete freedom for some weeks until it begins to hunt for itself, which signals the start of its training. Hacking a young bird helps to develop its strength and coordination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

A couple days passed by and practice at Cobra Kai was much the same under Sensei Kreese as it had been that first day in Sensei Lawrence’s absence. Once more, he was teaching them the importance of not stopping a fight until it was completely finished. He stressed that when they did not finish off their enemies, it only gave them the opportunity to come back and hurt them later. Hawk took to the lesson like a duck to water. What Sensei Kreese said made sense to him. So when the King Cobra had them all sparring that day, Hawk made a point to dominate any fight he was in.

Miguel was just counting down the days until Sensei Lawrence came back. Things felt more fun when he was teaching. Sensei Kreese made them feel like they were in bootcamp or something. And he was absolutely ruthless. During Hawk’s match against Dieter, Hawk had caught the other boy’s foot to his face on accident, giving him a bloody nose. Such injuries were common enough in the dojo, but at least Sensei Lawrence would’ve paused things to let them use the first-aid kit first. Sensei Kreese had told them to finish the fight instead. And Hawk had listened to him. He wanted to be a winner. 

All of it made Miguel’s stomach clench. He wished Sensei Lawrence was there, so he could at least put some of his misgivings to rest. But without him present, Miguel just had to keep reminding himself that Sensei Lawrence would never knowingly bring anyone dangerous into the dojo, much less leave his students alone with someone threatening to them. So he tried to push the creeping unease he felt into the back of his mind. 

Once everyone had finished changing post-practice, Miguel walked with some of the guys out the door, where he could wait outside for Hawk. Mitch looked to be in some kind of pain, with the way his face was clenched and how he was practically scuttling down the sidewalk. “Man, I gotta go,” he said out loud to the others. “Maybe I’ll check with that convenience store owner next door and see if he’ll let me use his bathroom. I’ve been holding it in all practice, and if I don’t get to let it out soon my bladder’s gonna burst!”

Miguel looked at him like he had mushrooms growing out of his head. “Well, why don’t you just use the one in the dojo?” he asked, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder, wondering what Ass-face’s deal was. Then he recalled to mind what Sensei Lawrence had told them; no calling the new Cobras mean nicknames, only Sensei was allowed to do that. So it was Mitch. Not Ass-face. 

On Miguel’s other side, Bert wrapped his hands around his backpack’s shoulder straps and answered for Mitch, “Hawk says if any of us blows out the toilet while he’s got cleaning duty, he’ll stick our heads in there _before_ he cleans it.”

“Okay, but that’s fair,” pointed out Aisha from where she walked between Bert and Tory. Giving all of them a look of mild disgust, she said, “I’ve seen what the bathroom looks like after a few of you use it, and I have to wonder if that’s how you guys live at home. Some of you are nasty, straight-up.”

Raising his hands defensively, Miguel smiled and said, “Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t even leave the toilet seat up. My mom and grandma raised me right.”

“Hawk should just count himself lucky he doesn’t have to clean the bathrooms where I work at the roller rink,” said Tory. Trying to one-up the guys in crude humor, she embellished, “God, reminds me of this one time, some frat party was passing around this big bag of sugar-free gummy bears. Woof, let me tell you.”

Aisha giggled and gave Tory a small shove against her shoulder. “Hey now, no need to get graphic.”

Back inside the dojo, Hawk sighed irately and trudged towards the bathroom, only to get cut off by Sensei Kreese, who stepped out of Sensei Lawrence’s office right at that moment. “Don’t worry about cleaning today. You can go ahead and take off,” said his instructor, hooking his thumbs through the black belt wrapped around his gi. With a firm nod, he assured, “Don’t worry, this can stay between us. Sensei Lawrence won’t have to know.”

Hawk’s eyebrows raised on his forehead. “Really?” he asked, almost unbelievingly, but the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile to hear him say it. No brushing the toilet? No mopping the floor? No headache-inducing cleaning products? Sounded good to him, far be it from Hawk to argue with his Sensei on that matter.

His reaction appeared to entertain Sensei Kreese, whose hard mouth creased into the shadow of a smirk. “You earned it,” he assured Hawk, giving him a single pat on the shoulder with a calloused hand before heading back inside the office. He walked towards the phone on the desk and called out behind him, “Good work in class today.”

Beaming, Hawk soaked in the praise and attention of the King Cobra like a dry sponge absorbed liquid. He felt the old man’s notice, and was starved for his approval. “Thanks, Sensei!” he exclaimed before turning abruptly around to grab his bag and rush towards the dojo’s exit. 

Miguel looked up from his phone after Hawk stepped outside the door, which jingled the bells as it closed behind him. “Wow, did you really finish that fast?” he joked, standing up from the curb and putting his cellphone back in his pocket. “Don’t tell me you’re playing hooky with cleaning duty, you know Sensei Lawrence will flip if he finds out. And don’t ask me to cover for you about it, don’t put me in that position.”

“Sensei Kreese says I don’t have to clean today,” explained Hawk, unlocking his car with the clicker while the two of them walked over towards it. He practically swelled with the way he said that statement. He felt special.

Hearing that surprised Miguel. His nose crinkled as he tossed his bag in the back seat. “That’s uncharacteristically nice of him.”

Hawk shook his head. “Nah, Sensei Kreese is cool like that. He said I earned the day off. I won the most matches, after all,” he bragged, getting into his seat. He had been practically unstoppable in class that day, as he’d thrown student after student to the mats, until he had four wins in a row under his belt. The nose-bleed incident had been merely a fluke, and he’d made Dieter pay for it by finishing the fight.

Pressing his lips together for a moment, Miguel reached over and hooked his seatbelt. He thought about voicing some of his concerns about Sensei Kreese to Hawk right then, but then decided to keep his mouth shut. Maybe he was wrong about the King Cobra, if he would be nice to Hawk like that. So rather than talk about it, he asked Hawk, “Speaking of which, how’s your nose doing?” It looked a bit swollen and was rather red. 

Hawk sniffed hard once to test his nasal passage before gingerly touching the bridge of his nose, checking it out in the mirror. “Eh, it’s fine,” he assessed flippantly, putting the key into the ignition and turning on the car. “No big. Looks worse than it feels. And Sensei Kreese says it’s not broken.”

“Yeah, well, try not to get your face messed up next time,” said Miguel, in a tone that was both humorous and tinged with a touch of fondness. “I’m starting to like that face.” He saw the way Hawk looked at him briefly from the corner of his eye, and how he brought a hand up to rub under his nose, to give him a reason to hover it over his upper lip for a few seconds. Miguel leaned his seat back some, letting the air-conditioning cool him down. “Anyway, how about some food? I’m famished. I don’t know about you, but some chicken nuggs from Mickey D’s would really hit the spot about now.” Giving Hawk a glance over his shoulder, the edge of his lips curved up as he added, “And how about I pay this time?”

With an arched eyebrow, Hawk drove onto the main road and quipped, “Sounds kinda like a date.”

His grin spreading, Miguel pulled out some crumpled bills from his wallet. “Oh, I treat my dates real good. Best dollar-menu food a meager allowance and leftover Easter money can buy.”

“Heh,” chuckled Hawk under his breath. “Alright, yeah. I could eat some fries. Inside or drive-thru?”

“Drive-thru,” said Miguel. He hesitated for a moment before going on to say, “I know this place we could take our food and park to eat. Just a place I go running sometimes, right up the road past Mickey D’s and to the left, then you make a right. Pretty chill area.”

He didn’t fool Hawk for a second, as he picked up on what Miguel was suggesting. At first a sincere smile lit up his face, before transforming into a joshing one. He couldn’t let that one go without making some kind of comment. “Jesus Christ,” remarked Hawk, rolling his eyes, “what are you, some kind of schmaltzy romantic? What’s with the mushy shit?”

Miguel shot him a look, and dished the taunting back. “Okay, how about we back it up? You’re the guy who got his girlfriend’s name tattooed on him, so don’t be throwing that kind of shade in my direction unless you want it counter-punched right back at you.”

Hawk’s cheeks burned at that comeback, but then his face hardened a bit. “Who told you about that?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“Uh, I overheard Mitch talking about it a while back,” answered Miguel, smoothing out one of the dollar-bills in his hands.

Taking a fuming breath, Hawk came to a break at a stop sign and muttered under his breath, “Fucking Ass-face, he needs to mind his own business.” He shouldn’t have brought the Asshole Twins along with him when he'd taken Moon to the tattoo parlor that day. That had been pretty stupid of him. Of course Mitch wouldn’t keep his big mouth shut.

With a sympathetic shrug, Miguel responded, “Sorry, was it supposed to be a secret or something?”

“No,” said Hawk curtly, tapping the gas pedal after waiting too long at the stop sign, earning a brief honk of the horn from the car behind them. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“I mean, I did notice you had a new tattoo that night in the dojo. I just didn’t realize her name was on it until Mitch pointed it out. I wasn’t really looking that closely.” Hawk didn’t respond, he merely kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. Miguel chose to take the hint and let it go. He hadn’t meant to start anything by bringing it up, just some mutual good-natured ribbing was all. Probably never a good idea to bring up an ex-girlfriend when doing that.

Thankfully the sourness in the air didn’t linger too long, and Hawk’s good mood returned quickly once they got to the McDonald’s. Then they drove to the nearby area Miguel had told him about. It was part of some trail connected to a local park. Miguel enjoyed going on jogs there because the surrounding view was nice, one of the few places in Reseda to get a pleasant look at some nature without too many roads ruining the scenery. Plus, there weren't too many people around at any given time. A good spot for a little privacy, if one wished for it.

He’d actually thought of bringing Sam up there for a date at one point, perhaps for a picnic. This was pretty close to a picnic though, right? Parking the car and sitting beside the curb on the grass with their food and drinks, Miguel figured this technically qualified. Geez, he really was a romantic at heart, wasn’t he? He blamed all the soap operas his Ya-Ya used to make him watch with her when he was younger.

“So, what should we do after this?” asked Hawk after they’d been eating for a while, pulling a handful of salty fries from the brown paper bag.

Swallowing the chicken nugget he’d been chewing on, Miguel suggested, “I don’t know. The mall? Or how about the beach? It’s hot as hell, a swim in the ocean might feel pretty good, don’t you think?”

Hawk looked at him like he was crazy to suggest that. “And get my hair wet?” he asked incredulously, washing his food down with a drink of his soda. 

“Oh, so I’m not worth messing up your hair, am I?” pressed Miguel playfully.

His friend set aside the bag of fries and leaned back on his hands in the grass, stretching his legs out. “Don’t take it personally,” Hawk laughed. “That’s a pretty big commitment you’re asking for. We’re not at that point in our relationship yet.” He’d never even let Moon see him without his mohawk up while they were dating. Deep down, Eli would have liked to have been relaxed enough around her to let her see him with his hair down again, and eventually he had planned to, once they had been together long enough. That wasn’t how things had turned out, however. And now Hawk was glad he never took that chance. How much worse would their breakup have been had he taken that step with her and she still left him?

Miguel just rolled his eyes and reached into the bag Hawk had tossed aside to grab some of the last remaining fries. “Alright, then you think of something,” he parried back in Hawk’s court. Dipping another chicken nugget in some buffalo sauce, Miguel added sarcastically, “Wait, let me guess, you’re gonna suggest we go get matching tattoos?”

One of Hawk’s hands self-consciously ghosted over his shirt’s collar, which hid the crescent moon ink on his collarbone. He forced himself to stop, leaning back on his palms again. _Don’t be such a pussy_, he admonished himself. Don’t live in the past. Live in the now. “Movie theaters usually have good air-conditioning, if you think it’s that hot. We could go catch a flick and make out in the back row,” Hawk threw out brazenly, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Miguel snorted, taking a big sip of his drink. Then he set it and the carton with the rest of his chicken nuggets to his other side, out of the way. “_Or_ we could save ourselves about fifteen bucks each and just…y’know, make out right here.” He looked at the boy sitting beside him and scooted closer as he said it. His fingers brushed over Hawk’s where their hands met on the grass.

“Oh yeah?” asked Hawk, with a more genuine smile.

“Yeah.” Miguel then took Hawk’s jaw in both his hands, which made his friend’s lips part, allowing a few sharp breaths to escape between them. Their knees knocked against each other’s, and Miguel closed the gap between them. His kiss was sweet but eager, inviting for more as their breathing became shallow and rapid. A groan caught in the back of Miguel’s throat when Hawk wrapped his hands over his shoulders and pushed him down on his back in the grass. 

It wasn’t totally unlike that night Sam had taken the initiative at Golf n’ Stuff. Miguel felt terrible for thinking about Sam at that moment, even if it was just for a couple of seconds; especially in the position he was in, with Hawk’s mouth pressed against his own, and his hand wandering down to rest at his waistline. So he pushed his ex-girlfriend from his thoughts. Sam didn’t want him. Hawk did. And he was stirring up the blood just under Miguel’s skin, making it feel hot to the touch. He didn’t think he could blame that on the weather.

That made Miguel feel adventurous. He let one of his hands stray down Hawk’s chest, until it reached the end of his shirt. Then Miguel’s fingers went under the hem and traveled back up, tracing his fingertips along Hawk’s ribcage. Then he immediately regretted his boldness when Hawk recoiled and pulled away from that touch. Shit, he shouldn’t have tried doing anything like that, yet. They weren’t at that point, were they? Now he’d killed the mood, hadn’t he? “Sorry,” he apologized, bringing his offending hand down to his lap as they both sat back up.

Hawk’s eyes squinted for a long minute before they settled on Miguel. “No light touches,” he said.

Pinching his brows in confusion, Miguel asked, “What do you mean?”

“Just…keep it firm around there,” Hawk tried to explain, feeling his cheeks heat up. Why’d he have to be so weird? Kissing felt great. But when hands started going under shirts, things got awkward, and not the good kind of awkward. He had not really been able to make Moon understand either, during the times they had made out and gotten handsy with each other. So he said, “Like this,” and took Miguel’s hand into one of his own. He uncurled Miguel’s fingers before leading them under his shirt again. Then he pressed the full of Miguel’s hand against his skin, the flat of his palm down, showing how much pressure he wanted him to use.

Still confused, Miguel slipped his hand back out, but threw Hawk an amused smirk. “Oh wait, don’t tell me you’re ticklish!” Hawk just shook his head, like he didn’t expect his friend to get it. Whistling low, Miguel then asked him, “Man, how’d you even get a tattoo if you’re that sensitive?”

Hawk scoffed, offended that anyone would use the word “sensitive” to describe him. “Please, getting my tat felt awesome.” For as much as Eli had been a total wuss throughout his life when it came to getting standard shots, Hawk had been pleasantly surprised by how good the tattoo gun had felt. It was just a sensory experience he couldn’t properly describe. Part of him couldn’t wait to go back to Rico’s, whether it was for a new tattoo or to get the raptor on his back touched up again. “Listen, I can’t explain it okay, just take my word for it.”

Miguel simply nodded. “Alright.”

With the mood killed for the time being, the two of them just sat beside one another for a few silent minutes. Miguel found himself reaching back around and grabbing his carton of chicken nuggets, taking one of them and dunking it lethargically in the buffalo sauce. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d somehow messed things up.

“You got any weird things I should know about?” asked Hawk, hoping that if Miguel had similar issues, it wouldn’t make him feel like such a freak. Or at least he’d be able to get the attention off his own weird thing.

Chewing on the nugget, Miguel thought for a couple of minutes before he shrugged his shoulders and cracked an embarrassed grin, admitting, “I don’t like people touching my bare feet.”

Hawk chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Gross. Me neither.”


	8. Hallux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallux: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. The toe which faces backwards on most raptors. In hawks, this is the talon most responsible for puncturing the vitals of prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Miguel scratched the back of his head absent-mindedly while he strolled around the Old Navy at the mall. He’d lost his mother somewhere in the store, although he knew if he really wanted to find her, all he had to do was head over to either the women’s section or the clearance rack, where she would undoubtedly be sorting through hot deals. His own journey over to the athletic clothes area proved to be pointless when he couldn’t find anything that looked cool within his price range. So he slowly walked in a giant loop around the store, trudging his way back towards where the ladies’ dresses and blouses were at.

Coming to the mall with his mother had been a decision made largely on impulse. He’d texted Hawk about taking him up on that previous offer to go catch a movie, with or without making out, but Hawk had responded back saying his parents were taking him to the doctor that day for a standard checkup. Next, Miguel had tried Aisha, but she said she was out with her parents, too. So, he figured he might as well do the same. His mom wanted to go clothes shopping for her new dating life, and Miguel offered to go with her, both in support and in the hopes he might find something for himself.

As he walked through the racks in the teenage girls’ section as a short cut, his ears caught the conversation of a mother and daughter nearby. “Well, your father’s been spending so much time there lately, I’m starting to forget what his face actually looks like. Maybe you should send me a pic, so I can jog my memory from time to time. It could also serve as evidence of his last-known footage if I ever had to report him missing to the police.”

“Very funny, Mom. You’re a real comedian.” Miguel’s feet froze where he stood at hearing that voice. No way. Peering over a rack of sweaters, Miguel quickly confirmed his suspicions. Yes way. It _was_ her. 

Sam.

Miguel’s heart thumped rapidly in his chest all of a sudden, and he instinctively ducked back behind the rack of sweaters, immediately feeling guilty as he did so. What a weak move. So much for being the champ, huh? Then again, it would probably look like he was stalking her if she saw him, right? He remembered what Aisha and Tory had told him, about how desperate he had come across in his attempts to win Sam back. He didn’t need to add more fuel to that fire.

Okay. No big deal. Run-ins were bound to occur at some point. It wasn’t like they could avoid each other till the end of time. He didn’t even need to engage. Just walk right past this section and head over to where his mother would be looking at dresses. Simple enough. All he had to do was move. One foot in front of the other. 

But luck was not on Miguel’s side that day, because as soon as he stepped out, he almost bumped right into Sam, as she had been walking over towards the coats, which were hung beside the sweaters. Two pairs of eyes met and then looked away, lightning fast. Miguel noticed Mrs. LaRusso had walked in the other direction, none the wiser to the situation. Sam noticed, too. Both of them stood silently still for a long, painfully awkward minute. Each waiting to see who would leave first. Then their eyes met again.

Miguel had a million-and-one things he wanted to say to her right then. After all, he’d played this scenario in his head a thousand times. But all that came out of his mouth was, “Hey.” Sam looked away again, wrapping her hands over her elbows as if she were cold. She looked so uncomfortable. Miguel’s shoulders slumped, wishing things didn’t have to be so tense between them. Unable to take the silence anymore, and not wanting to be a creep, he said, “Sorry, I’ll just go.”

That got Sam to bite her bottom lip. But as Miguel prepared to walk away, she finally spoke out and said, “I hear that you’re seeing someone new now.” 

Miguel stopped in his tracks and instantly turned back around to face her, his eyebrows raised, surprised. “You know about that? How?” Hadn’t she blocked him on all social media?

Her eyes looked away from him for a moment again, like she was hesitant to say anything else, like she regretted saying as much as she had. Miguel followed her eyes over to where her mother was still looking through a stack of shirts, not noticing them at all. But Sam let out a big sigh and admitted, “Moon told me. She told me about her breakup, and then about the post on Instagram you made.” That’s right, Moon would’ve seen the photo. That hadn’t crossed Miguel’s mind when he posted it.

“Yeah, uh, I’ve been kinda exploring my romantic orientation lately,” explained Miguel, awkwardly gesticulating with his hands as he tried to explain himself, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Came to the conclusion that I’m probably bi. So I still like girls, I’m just figuring out that I’m also okay with, y’know, guys, too. I was reading online about how people label themselves, and I saw some of them were talking about percentages. I feel like I’m about a solid 70/30. You know, where I’m seventy percent attracted to girls and thirty-” 

“That’s fine,” said Sam with a small shrug of her shoulders, mercifully cutting him off. “That you’re bi, I mean. But….” She stopped herself again, making another deep sigh. The tension was so thick between them, it felt stuffier than the humidity did outside. “Are you really dating Moon’s ex-boyfriend? What’s his name? Eli? Hawk?”

Miguel nodded, stopping with his wild gesticulations. He instead folded his arms protectively across his chest. “Yeah.”

“Do you know why Moon dumped him? Do you even know what he tried to do to Demetri?” asked Sam pointedly, this time staring him straight in the face. She knew she had solid ground to stand on now.

“Yeah,” answered Miguel again, reaching a hand back up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. He thought about stopping himself there. Did he owe Sam any explanations for anything he did? Did he have to defend who he was dating? Would she even listen to him if he tried to give her an explanation? Still, he found himself trying anyways, against his better inclination. “I heard about it. He told me the story that night.”

Arching a skeptical eyebrow, Sam asked, “Did he tell you the whole story? Because I was there, I saw it. Robby and I had to stop him and his gang from beating Demetri up.”

“Yes, he told me the whole story. About the Yelp review, and everything,” responded Miguel, folding his arms again. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation. And did Sam really just call the others in Cobra Kai a gang? That made Miguel’s face pinch.

Sam shook her head, gazing up at him with complete disappointment spread clear over her features. It made Miguel feel awful to be on the receiving end of a look like that. It was the same look his mother would give him whenever she caught him in a lie. “And you’re okay with that?” asked Sam with a soft scoff. “Figures. Y’know, I really thought I knew you. But I guess not, if you’d actually go out with someone like that. He’s a thug, Miguel.”

The accusatory tone in her voice roused Miguel’s defenses. “Hey, I talked to him about the mall fight,” he countered, creasing his brows. “And I’m not defending what he did. I told him off for it. Yeah, he screwed up, he overreacted-”

“Yeah, if you want to put it mildly,” interrupted Sam curtly. “Heard that one before. Let me guess, he was just a little drunk, too, right?”

Miguel bit his tongue to avoid immediately saying something he’d regret at that dig. “Listen, the situation’s more complicated than it looks, okay? He thought he was standing up for the dojo after Demetri trash-talked it on Yelp, he’d gotten confused about one of the lessons Sensei was trying to teach us.” Miguel couldn’t believe himself. Here he was trying to explain things to Sam, right after he’d told himself it would be a fruitless endeavor. He just couldn’t stop himself, could he? Why did she always have this effect on him?

Sam’s eyes narrowed, looking almost like sharp barbs that threatened to prick Miguel until he bled. “_Was_ he confused? I thought that’s what they teach you guys at Cobra Kai. About striking hard, and all that. That’s what Chris and Nathaniel told us. Remember them? Yeah, they joined our dojo. They told us everything about your Sensei. He’s making all of you into a bunch of jerks.”

Miguel’s blood started to boil at hearing that accusation, at listening to Sensei Lawrence’s name get dragged through the mud. And he couldn’t believe the students who left Cobra Kai would throw shade at all of them like that. Over some dumb nicknames? “You don’t know anything about Sensei,” he stated defensively, clenching his fists. “And you don’t know Cobra Kai, either. But I guess you’ll believe anything after what your dad’s told you about us, right?”

The girl in front of him just shook her head again. “Well, when everything he’s said has been true so far, yeah, I will believe him. They were awful back when he was in school. Dad said Cobra Kai will never change, and since all of you have become assholes ever since you joined, I guess he’s right about that.” Without giving Miguel a chance to put in another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, storming off to wherever her mother had wandered.

Standing there in the middle of the store, Miguel thought about following her. He was so sure that, with the right words, he could explain everything perfectly. But he stopped himself. He tightened his fists by his sides to help cease the shaking in his arms, but his feet remained where they were planted like planks. Because he knew it wasn’t worth it anymore. Sam hated him, didn’t she? Like, really hated him. She would never forgive him for what happened between them, would she? That sunk in like a high-speed arrow that had been shot directly at him, piercing him right through his collarbone. It hurt. Really bad. Worse than any hit to the face he’d ever endured.

So, instead of running after her, Miguel turned around and went to go find his mom. He was beyond ready to just go home.

If Miguel had been dating a girl at the time, he never would have made the mistake of telling her that he ran into his ex-girlfriend. For some reason, in a moment he would play over and over in his head for the rest of that night, he had assumed things would be different because he was dating a guy, and had decided to let Hawk know. “She said _what_ to you?” demanded Hawk after Miguel called him on Facetime later that evening and tried to casually tell him about what had happened.

“I know, I know,” said Miguel with a pessimistic shrug, holding his phone in his hand while laying on his bed. “Just try to remember who her dad is, alright? And the students who left Cobra Kai to join Miyagi-Do probably aren’t painting a pretty picture of us, either. But if Sam chooses to only listen to them, that’s her business. I can’t change her mind.” He had hoped she would be more fair, more willing to listen to the other side of things, if only for the sake of making the peace. But since when had she ever done that?

On the other end of the screen, Hawk’s face had gone cold at hearing about everything Sam said. And it pissed him off that Miguel did not seem to be as affected by it as he should have been. Hawk couldn’t detect any righteous anger in his voice when he’d told him about how Sam had called Cobra Kai a “gang,” that to her they were all “jerks” and “assholes,” and that Hawk in particular was a “thug.” Miguel retold everything like a complete defeatist, like he was Demetri or something, like Sam had taken the fight out of him.

Who was Samantha LaRusso to say anything? Maybe Miguel had forgotten who Sam used to be, but Hawk hadn’t. He remembered when she used to hang around Yasmine and Kyler, two of the meanest, most miserable people at their school. That group had made so many people’s lives a living hell. She had been complicit in their behavior, and all because she’d just wanted their approval, to fit in with them. She had stood by and did nothing while Yasmine bullied Aisha for her weight. And she had the audacity to call Hawk out for going after Demetri?

Sitting there, brewing in his own rising fury, Hawk remembered what Sensei Kreese told him. You didn’t wait for the enemy to come back and hurt you. No, you finished the fight. If they shoot at you, you shoot back. You protected yourself, or you died. Sam had _always_ been an enemy to Cobra Kai, just like her dad. And enemies needed to be put in their place.

“I say we go get some spray paint and tag her car. If not, we could just key it. Or maybe we should slash her tires.” It just popped out of his mouth. At moments like these, it was like he had no filter. He just said the first thing that came to his mind.

Miguel did a double-take, not believing what he’d just heard. His wide eyes quickly darted up to make sure his mom and Ya-Ya hadn’t been walking by his room and overheard. “Jesus Christ, what the hell, man?!” he exclaimed, jumping off the bed to scuttle over and close his bedroom door, to prevent any eavesdropping in case Hawk said anything else outrageous. Although what could be more outrageous than what he just said? Miguel was almost at a loss for words.

“It’ll send a message to her and those traitors at Miyagi-Do,” explained Hawk heatedly.

“What message?” demanded Miguel, reclining on his bed again, propping his pillow behind his back. “That she was right about everything she said? Because, I gotta say, that would be a pretty big asshole move if we did that.”

From where he was sitting on his own bed, Hawk shifted uncomfortably. He stewed over what Miguel was telling him. Part of what he said made some sense. But it also conflicted with what they were learning at Cobra Kai. It left him feeling confused and frustrated. “So what _are_ we going to do about it?”

Miguel blinked and shook his head a little, shocked by his question. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

Hawk gave Miguel a long look through the phone screen, wondering how the All-Valley Champion had become someone who would just stand by and not act when someone insulted him, his friends, their Sensei, and their dojo. What had happened to him? Hawk could only guess it was due to lingering feelings Miguel still had for Sam. He was soft for her. No doubt Sam would take advantage of that, she would count on the fact that Miguel would never do anything to get back at her and Miyagi-Do for how she treated him.

Hawk, however, was not soft. Not anymore. He wasn’t meek little Eli Mousekowitz, as one of his bullies had once colorfully called him. At this point, there was no way he could go back to being that bitch-ass sissy Eli, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. He was Hawk. And he wasn’t going to take shit from anyone. 

Pinching his brows to the bridge of his nose, Hawk pointed out tersely, “You’re just saying that ‘cause it’s Sam we’re talking about. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to shut them up.” This was Miguel, the one who defeated Robby Keene by showing no mercy, the one who beat last year’s All-Valley winner, the one who put Kyler and his crew down in one of the most brutal cafeteria beatdowns in their school’s history. Where the hell was that Miguel at right now?

Obviously he was nowhere to be found at the present, because on the phone screen, Miguel let out a sad sigh and responded, “It’s got nothing to do with that.”

“Bullshit!” exclaimed Hawk.

Miguel frowned, starting to feel prickled by Hawk’s rising temper. It stirred a defensiveness inside him, which cracked his composure. “Are you seriously getting jealous over this?” he threw back, gripping his phone tighter in his hand. “Seriously?! I’m telling you, this doesn’t have anything to do with me and Sam.” God, couldn’t Hawk just listen to him? Miguel was feeling too depressed to deal with any of this. The whole confrontation with Sam had brought a dark cloud over his head, and this wasn’t helping get rid of it at all; all it was doing was stirring up a storm. He shouldn’t have made the phone call.

The accusation of jealousy threw Hawk for a loop. He hadn’t expected that. “It’s not about jealousy,” he said, “it’s about respect.”

“Now who’s full of shit, buddy?” countered Miguel, making a big show of rolling his eyes as wide as he possibly could. He regretted ever bringing the subject up. If he ever ran into Sam in the future, he knew next time to keep it to himself.

Hawk couldn’t believe Miguel was trying to put the blame on him now, making it seem like he was overreacting out of petty jealousy. Was Miguel playing head games with him? No, not Miguel, too. He always thought he could count on Miguel to keep things real. “So, that’s it?” asked Hawk, jutting out his chin. “You’re really just gonna sit there and do nothing?” Miguel wouldn’t stand up to his ex-girlfriend to defend their dojo? To defend Hawk? To defend himself?

Getting tired of the argument, Miguel sighed once more and responded back a touch testily with, “Yeah. Sometimes that’s the sanest solution, believe it or not.” Then, it sunk in. Miguel remembered Hawk’s reaction to the Yelp review. Hawk was impulsive, he was reckless, especially when he felt he or his friends had been insulted or threatened. He sucked at knowing how to pick his battles. Would Hawk actually go after Sam, too? Miguel couldn’t assure himself that the answer would be no. And that worried him. 

Shifting more uncomfortably where he was sitting, Hawk tried to argue his point more. “But, Miguel-”

Miguel cut him off. “I’m gonna need a solid promise from you, right now,” he said, jabbing his finger at the screen, his tone so stern and unflinching that it surprised even him. But, as low as he was feeling at the moment, he didn’t care. “You need to _promise_ me that you won’t bother Sam. Or her car. I know you don’t feel like I did enough, but I just stuck my neck out for you, don’t make me regret it.”

Hawk loathed the way Miguel looked at him as he said those patronizing words. It was a look that seemed to say, “_Listen, you violence-loving psycho, I’m going to hold you back so you don’t screw up again_.” Was that what Miguel thought of him? Did he think he was crazy? That worry sobered Hawk a little, before it left him feeling irritated and hurt. He started to doubt himself. Doubt brought shame. And shame brought fear. _Don’t be so weak_, he berated himself, thinking of all the times he’d been weak in the past. Fucking coward. Take control of the situation.

His features hardened like granite, but he said, “Alright. I won’t bother Sam, or her car. I promise.”


	9. Keen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keen: verb; adjective  
Falconry.  
1\. To control a raptor's diet in order to bring it (usually down) to a level where it is hungry enough to hunt.  
2\. Characterized by strength and distinctness of perception; extremely sensitive or responsive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

As his eyes swept through the backyard of the Miyagi-Do Karate Dojo from where he stood on his toes, peeking above the wooden fence, his line of vision passing over the patio, the various decorations, and the koi pond, Hawk’s mind began to fill with dark fantasies. How easy would it be to go get some of the guys from Cobra Kai and come back later in the dead of night to _really_ finish the fight? It would be so easy. It made Hawk’s fingers twitch just thinking about how great he would feel to completely wreck this stupid dojo. Nothing would have driven home the point harder. Nobody would ever mess with Cobra Kai again if Hawk did that, would they? It made him smile meanly just thinking about that possibility.

He had to shake himself out of those daydreams. He wasn’t here for any of that this morning. He was on a specific mission. And Hawk felt a heavy weight of shame envelop him as he started to worry about how disappointed Sensei Kreese would probably be with him if he knew he wasn’t going to do everything he could to put Miyagi-Do in their place right then.

_Alright, enough of that. Time to act_. Hawk needed to get in and do this as quickly as he could. He didn’t know how much longer he had before the other students would start showing up. And Mr. LaRusso could move from the front car lot into the backyard at any moment and catch him. Hawk really hadn’t thought this through, at all. He could so easily get trapped here in enemy territory, outnumbered. Sensei Kreese would probably chastise him for making such a rookie mistake. He should’ve brought backup.

Oh well, too late for that now. He didn’t want to leave and come back later. Whatever, the Hawk wasn’t scared of anything. Let them catch him, for all he cared. He’d fight them all off.

As he stepped through the fence gate, Hawk kept his eyes on Robby while he silently strolled up the walkway, his shoes creaking on the wood despite his best efforts at stealth. The other boy was busy practicing his jabs on the punching bag they had hung up in the back. Hawk’s footsteps must have given him away, because Robby then suddenly turned around to glance over his shoulder. He was undoubtedly expecting to see someone else, of course, because the smile on his face quickly dissolved into a glower when he saw who it was instead.

Robby closed the gap between them in five great strides, rushing up to where Hawk was standing next to a potted bonsai tree to get up in his face. “What are you doing here?” he demanded to know, hands reflexively curling into tight fists by his sides. “If you’re here to start a fight, I’ll be more than glad to give you another beatdown.”

_Typical Miyagi-Do tactic_, thought Hawk. Provoke and then pullback. Force the adversary to strike first, so you could later say you didn’t actually start nothing. But at least Robby didn’t call out for Mr. LaRusso to come his aid, like Demetri probably would’ve done. Hawk had to give him that. At least he wasn’t a little bitch.

“Chill out,” Hawk responded, not flinching from Robby’s threat. Squaring his slim shoulders in an effort to look more intimidating, like a cobra spreading its hood, Hawk told his adversary, “I’m not here to fight today. I’m here to talk, man to man.” He felt like such a pussy saying that. Experience had taught him that talking things out was for chicks. Men were supposed to settle matters with their fists. Or at least Cobras were.

With an exaggerated sweep of his head, Robby glanced first to his left, then to his right, like he was looking for someone. Then he stared back at Hawk, crossing his arms over his chest, and a sharp grin spread over his mouth. “Weird, I don’t see no man standing out here,” he stated. “Just some bully who attacks his opponent when his back is turned.”

Now it was Hawk’s hands that were flexing into fists. Why was he even bothering with this? He should’ve just slugged Robby right there, wipe that smarmy smile off his face. Hawk was itching for a rematch with Miyagi-Do, after all, ever since his humiliating loss at the mall. Next time, he thought, he wouldn’t lose. But next time wasn’t right now, he reminded himself. Keep focus. So he forced his fists to uncurl, and discreetly wiggled his fingers loose. 

“Sam talked to Miguel,” Hawk said, rather than take Robby’s bait. He was tired of Sam always making Miguel feel bad. She treated him like he was shit. For as much as Moon had hurt Hawk by dumping him, at least she hadn’t blocked him on Instagram, and he knew she would never cross a line and diss him or his dojo in public. Because that just wasn’t the sort of girl Moon was. But Sam? Sam treated Miguel like garbage, and that wasn’t fair. Did she even care how she made him feel? Probably not.

He watched the way Robby’s mouth tightened, how his brows furrowed together hard. Was that a sign of jealousy? Robby responded tersely with, “Who Sam talks to isn’t my business. And it’s not yours, either.”

“She made it my business,” countered Hawk, jutting out his chin. Robby’s features chilled over. “She had a lot of things to say about Cobra Kai, it sounds like. I’m getting tired of you guys shitting on our dojo all the time. You better stop, and soon.”

The boy in front of him snorted with contempt, and his sharp smile returned. Hawk really wanted Robby to give him an excuse. To take a swing at him. It would be all the reason he’d need. Even at that moment, his brain kept screaming at him to strike first, strike first, strike first. Just like Sensei taught him. But Robby didn’t hit him. “Or what?” he goaded instead. “You guys gonna try upstaging us again? Keep trying. Considering all the new recruits you’ve sent our way lately, whatever you’re doing seems to be working real good.”

That made Hawk’s fingers twitch again. Those traitors who left Cobra Kai deserved to be in a second-rate dojo like Miyagi-Do, he thought bitterly. They didn’t have what it took to flip the script and become a badass like he did. “Keep ‘em,” he told Robby. “But tell them they better shut up about our Sensei, or else.” Didn’t Robby care at all that the ex-Cobras and even Mr. LaRusso were dissing his dad? Hawk didn’t know their story, but if anyone talked about his own father the way the others at Miyagi-Do talked about Sensei Lawrence, he’d have smashed all their faces in.

“Is that a threat?” demanded Robby, his voice cutting like flint. His whole body had gone stiff, and Hawk could tell he was holding himself back, too. It was obvious Robby wanted to take a swing at him. Good, at least they were both on the same page. Neither of them liked talking things out.

Before he could stop himself, Hawk replied, “Yeah. And it’s the only warning you’re gonna get.” Robby should be grateful they were getting that even. Miyagi-Do deserved worse, after everything they’d done to all of them at Cobra Kai. Much worse.

Robby took a deep, fuming breath in an effort to calm himself down after that challenge. “Look, I don’t know what crawled up your ass,” he said, “but you better pull it out. We didn’t start this fight, but if you guys want it so bad, we’ll give it to you. Just like at the mall.”

“It’s _you_ guys who are always starting things,” retorted Hawk defensively, curling his upper lip back. When Robby scoffed, he kept going. “Maybe what you keep forgetting is that while you guys here at Miyagi-Do keep spouting bullshit about tranquility and inner peace, you’re the ones who provoke us first. Sam hurt Aisha and Miguel. You insulted me. Your ‘Sensei’ threw shade at our Sensei and tried stealing his students away like a coward. And Demetri couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. And then you all act shocked when we strike back hard.”

“And you don’t think for a second that maybe you guys overreact to whatever insults you’re looking for?” Robby hit back with. Not waiting for a reply, he stared Hawk straight in his eyes and spat, “What am I saying? Of course you don’t. I forgot, no mercy, right?”

Hawk returned his glare with a harsh one of his own, which, combined with the smirk curling on the corners of his mouth, produced an uncanny effect. “Glad you figured it out,” he said. “Now tell your dojo to stop attacking Cobra Kai and our Senseis. If you don’t, next time we’ll _finish_ this fight.” He got ready to turn around, when he noticed the potted bonsai by his feet. Acting on impulse, he leaned one of his shoes against it and then tipped it over the walkway, spilling the tree and pebbles onto the grass. _Alpha move_, he thought. Sensei Kreese would’ve appreciated that.

Giving a thoroughly steamed Robby one more look, Hawk sauntered off, considering his business handled.

That afternoon, at Cobra Kai, the class got two big pieces of news. First: Sensei Lawrence would be returning the next day. A huge wave of relief flooded through Miguel immediately at hearing Sensei Kreese tell them that announcement. Finally. It felt like it had been much longer than a week since Sensei Lawrence had left on bereavement. His presence had been sorely missed, especially by Miguel.

The second announcement from Sensei Kreese was that he had a special surprise in store for Sensei Lawrence’s return. He wanted to give the class an opportunity for them to show their Sensei what they had been learning in his absence, in a much grander way than simply setting up a mock tournament in the dojo. They had acquired a lot of fighting knowledge that week, and Sensei Kreese told them they were ready to prove themselves at a place called Coyote Creek. An old Cobra Kai tradition, he explained. They had earned it.

After practice wrapped up, Miguel pulled his phone out of his bag. When the locked screen lit up, he had to blink to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Sam had sent him a text during practice. And it was heated: _wth miguel??!!! you told hawk about our conversation yesterday?!_

Did she really unblock his number just to be confrontational? But how did she know about his talk with Hawk? Miguel could feel his stomach drop as he thought about what that must have meant. God, Hawk didn’t go back on his promise and pick a fight with Sam, did he? He immediately shot a text back: _what are you talking about???_

Three dots lined the screen, and her reply soon sent through: _yeah right don’t play dumb_

Miguel sucked in his bottom lip irately. He was getting really tired of having to put up with other people’s attitudes. His thumbs typed out furiously: _look I don’t know what you’re talking about. did hawk say something to you? either tell me or just go back to blocking me_

She didn’t reply. Miguel waited for a whole five agonizing minutes before giving up the hope that she would explain herself and disclose whatever had happened. That meant he’d have to get his answers from Hawk. So, stuffing his cellphone inside his pants pocket, Miguel marched over to the bathroom, where Hawk was busy running water from the sink into the mop bucket. He immediately interrogated him. “Did you say anything to Sam?”

Looking up where Miguel stood by the doorframe, Hawk bristled at the tone of voice being leveled at him. “No,” he answered bluntly, turning off the faucet and setting the full bucket on the floor. “And I didn’t slash her tires, either, if that’s your next question. I told you I wouldn’t.”

“She just texted me,” said Miguel, not losing the edge in his speech yet.

Hawk scoffed, reaching down to pick up the brush and rubber gloves from the cleaning box. “And she’s saying I bothered her? Well, she’s lying.”

“Why would she text me asking if I talked to you about our run-in yesterday?” Miguel demanded to know.

After pausing for a second, Hawk then answered matter-of-factly, “Probably because I confronted Robby this morning at Miyagi-Do. I told him that they had better stop dissing Cobra Kai, or we’ll finish the fight.” He said it like it was no big deal. 

Miguel’s mouth twisted in disbelief. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “You promised me you wouldn’t mess with them.”

“No.” Hawk snapped his head up and immediately corrected him. “I promised I wouldn’t bother Sam. Or her car. And I didn’t.”

Was Hawk being serious right now, thought Miguel? He wanted to be like that? He wanted to be a smart ass? Did Hawk even know how seriously annoying he was being right now? “Obviously that also meant not to bother the others at Miyagi-Do, either, come on!” God, this was just what he needed. Now Sam really was going to think Cobra Kai was nothing more than a gang full of jerks and assholes.

“What do you mean ‘obviously’?!” asked Hawk incredulously, standing back up to his feet in a hot second, dropping the brush and gloves onto the floor. “That’s not what you said!” What, did Miguel expect him to be a mind reader? Bad enough he wouldn’t stand up for himself and everyone else when his ex-girlfriend ragged on them, but he had to be one of those people who expected Hawk to read between the lines, too? Hadn’t Sensei Lawrence been doing enough of that ever since the All-Valley Tournament?

Miguel didn’t want to admit Hawk had a point. He wasn’t in the mood to concede even an inch right now. He was too irritated for that. Taking a deep, aggravated breath, he asked, “Why do you want to keep escalating things _all the time_?” 

“Because what she said demanded a response,” explained Hawk. “And you weren’t going to be the one to make it, so I had to.” He hoped Miguel would get over whatever funk Sam had sent him into real soon. It was embarrassing, seeing the champ act like this, all whiny and defensive. Hawk didn’t understand what the problem was. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. We didn’t even fight. All we did was talk.”

“I’m upset because not every single instance of shade has to be a cause for war between our dojos,” Miguel exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Pick your battles better, man!” With that, he stormed off, leaving the bathroom and making his way out the dojo. Hawk frowned, but didn’t follow after him. After all, he still had cleaning duty. He just knelt down to pick the gloves and brush back up, and angrily went about scrubbing the inside of the toilet; one week down, one to go.

Didn’t Miguel get it? Miyagi-Do had already declared war on Cobra Kai. Mr. LaRusso would never stop until Cobra Kai was taken down, and his students were following right along in his footsteps. Someone had to make them stop, and Hawk was fine being that person. Because if Miyagi-Do succeeded, and there was no more Cobra Kai, that meant there would be no more Hawk, either. This was self-preservation. Couldn’t Miguel see that? What, did he want to date that pussy nerd Eli instead?

After walking outside, Miguel stood on the curb and ran his hands through his hair in frustration, gripping at fistfuls with his fingers. God, he was so glad that Sensei Lawrence would be back tomorrow. He could really use some of his guidance right about then. If only Sensei had a smartphone, Miguel would’ve texted him so many times this past week about questions he had, things he wanted to tell him.

Taking a few calming breaths, he brought his hands back down to his sides. He remembered Hawk’s accusation from the previous night, that the only reason he didn’t act was because Sam had been the one to insult everyone. And now it hit him that maybe part of that allegation had some truth to it. He didn’t know why he cared so much what Sam thought of him, of his Sensei, and Cobra Kai as a whole. Why did he care at all now?

Hesitating for a few seconds, Miguel sighed and pulled out his phone from his pocket, sending a text to Hawk: _I’m gonna walk home today. I need to clear my head._

The door behind him jingled, and Miguel turned around to tell Hawk to give him more time to stew in private. But his eyes widened when they saw it was Sensei Kreese who had stepped out of the dojo. The King Cobra walked passed Miguel, taking a couple steps into the parking lot before pulling out a lighter and cigar. “You boys aren’t having a fight, are you?” he asked suddenly, flicking the lighter on.

Miguel shook his head. He didn’t want to air any of this business in front of Sensei Kreese, of all people. That might open the door for him finding out about other things regarding him and Hawk, things he really didn’t need to know. “No, Sensei, it’s nothing really. Just a little argument. We’ll be good.”

He watched while Sensei Kreese blew a few puffs of black smoke from his cigar into the air. The old man gave him a look from the corner of his eye and then stated, “You must be excited that Sensei Lawrence will be returning tomorrow.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. He just knew. It made Miguel worry whether he’d given Sensei Kreese the impression that he’d hated having him as the sole instructor around at Cobra Kai that week. A twinge of guilt pulled at his insides, twisting them into a pretzel.

Biting his bottom lip, all he could think to say was, “Yes, Sensei.” Mulling over his worries for a few silent minutes, while the King Cobra continued to smoke, Miguel decided to add, “I can’t wait to show him everything we’ve learned.”

That made Sensei Kreese smirk, taking another long drag from his cigar. “I’m sure he’ll be proud of you kids,” he commented, blowing smoke as he said it. “Sensei Lawrence used to be the champ of Coyote Creek, back in the day. Got more confirmed wins than anyone I ever taught.”

Miguel perked up some. “Really?” That pumped him up a bit to hear that piece of information. He loved hearing stuff about when Sensei Lawrence was not Sensei, but instead a student of the original Cobra Kai.

With a nod, Sensei Kreese emphasized, “Nobody knew how to finish a fight like that man. Rest assured, kid, you’re learning from the best. He’s been a little…off lately, but I know when he sees all of you out there, he’ll be back to his old self soon enough.”

A small smile lit up Miguel’s face. He brushed aside his previous misgivings about the King Cobra and the lessons he’d been teaching them. Now he really felt bad for the times he’d spoken up in Sensei Kreese’s classes to voice his concerns, and how he’d never apologized for it. It really hadn’t been his place to do that. He should’ve trusted him, just like he trusted Sensei Lawrence. He was Sensei’s Sensei, after all.

At that moment, Miguel told himself he’d make Sensei Lawrence proud. He was going to win the game at Coyote Creek tomorrow, to follow in Sensei Lawrence’s footsteps and be the champ there, too. That would be just the thing he needed to boost his confidence after Sam had knocked him down so low. “Thanks, Sensei,” he said to Sensei Kreese. 

The old man just gave him the faintest of nods before he reached down to put out the end of his cigar on the asphalt. He then strolled back towards the dojo, calling out, “See you bright and early tomorrow, kid.”


	10. Quarry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quarry: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. An animal or animals being hunted or targeted by a raptor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Hawk’s eyes followed Mitch as he unknowingly walked closer and closer to where he was sitting in his optimum position, up high in a tree. This must have been how real hawks felt while looking down at their prey, zeroing in on a mouse with their keen eyesight before swooping down with their talons extended to go in for the kill. The prey never had any idea they were walking right into a trap, did they? It was easy, almost too easy to be considered fair. Oh well. Life wasn’t fair. That was just the nature of the game, it couldn’t be helped. Hawks needed to hunt, after all.

The game was simple enough. There were two teams: the Black Team and the Red Team, indicated by the color of the headbands each student wore. The goal was to collect as many headbands from each other as they could, by any means possible. No rules, other than to use their judgement. That day, the students on the opposing team were not their friends, not their brothers and sisters. They were the enemy. The last team standing would be the winner. Sensei Kreese had emphasized to them the significance of guarding their headbands at all costs. “Remember, this is your life. You lose it, you die.”

Miguel was on the Black Team, Hawk on the Red Team. The two had given one another a glance before all the students parted, just a bit of nonverbal communication to let the other know they understood the situation. There could only be one winner that day, and both of them wanted that victory. Both thought for sure they wanted it more than the other one did. 

Things between them had been uncomfortably edgy since the previous day, each thinking the other was still being stubborn and unreasonable, neither willing to budge an inch yet. They’d barely said a word to each other beyond pleasantries that morning. Maybe a friendly competition would be what they needed to get over that bit of tension. 

As soon as Mitch was standing directly below his tree, Hawk saw his chance and attacked. He dive-bombed his enemy, landing on top of Mitch with enough force that it knocked them both to the ground. In the quick tussle, Hawk snatched his headband off, before standing back up. The whole thing didn’t take longer than a minute. Easiest victory yet.

Mitch scrambled to pick himself up to his feet, brushing some dead leaves from his clothes. “What the hell, man?” he exclaimed irritably. 

Hawk found himself amused by the other boy’s frustration. “Sorry, Ass-face. Today you’re the enemy,” he stated, stuffing Mitch’s black headband with the others in his pocket. “That makes five kills.” Each win energized Hawk more and more, making him feel untouchable. It was like this game was made for him. He was a winner.

Hesitating for a second, dusting the dirt off his shorts, Mitch spoke up to remind him, “Sensei Lawrence said you couldn’t call me that anymore.”

“What?” asked Hawk with narrowed eyes, before he realized Mitch was referring to his nickname. He gave Mitch an uneasy look as he mulled over that for a moment. But then Hawk frowned, hard. He remembered the day he asked Sensei Lawrence to please not call him Lip. And how that had turned out. “You got a problem with that?” he snapped at Mitch with a mean edge to his voice. “Go cry to him about it.” He turned away and walked farther into the woods, to search for more prey. 

He could give Mitch the credit of at least not leaving when Chris, Nathaniel, and the others did. That meant he had what it took to become a Cobra. But as far as Hawk was concerned, he hadn’t warranted the right to a new nickname yet. And Sensei Lawrence? He’d just finished mocking Chubs, hadn’t he? And Raymond was actually trying to flip the script. Mitch, meanwhile, only continued to suck up to him. Eventually he’d learn. They all did, eventually.

Hawk would show the Cobra noobs respect when his Senseis did, because then he’d know they had earned it. If Hawk had to suffer through a derogatory nickname before earning a new one, then so did they.

Over in his own area of the woods, Miguel’s sneakers crunched the dead leaves under them, making it difficult to hear for others walking around in the surrounding distance. He tried to keep his ears out for any sign of them, for a twig snapping here or foliage rustling over there. Meanwhile his eyes kept constantly sweeping, on the lookout for his opponents. There were fewer of them now, after he’d taken out three of the Red Team, which meant they would be more spread out. 

The smartest thing would be to just circle the parameter, walking in a spiral around where those who’d lost the game would be congregated with Sensei Lawrence and Sensei Kreese. Miguel needed to think pragmatically. He had to try and keep the upper hand whenever possible. Since there were no rules, anything was permitted, within reason. People could attack in pairs, they could come from above or below, nothing was out of bounds.

As soon as Miguel walked up to the top of the minor hill, their eyes met. It was Aisha, strolling past a pair of trees. Miguel looked at her pockets, expecting to see a headband or two, but she had none. Neither had anyone else on the Red Team he’d fought. He’d been trying to keep track as he defeated each opponent, and he guessed Hawk must have been the one who was wiping out the Black Team. Of course he would want to show off like that.

He followed Aisha’s eyes as she made visible note of his own collection of red trophies sticking out of his pocket. “Alright,” she said, bracing herself into a fighting stance, elbows in and fists tightly curled. She licked her bottom lip in anticipation of the upcoming battle. “Let’s do this.”

Miguel smiled. He loved Aisha’s fighting spirit. “Sorry for what I’m gonna have to do,” he apologized preemptively. He liked Aisha, but he had to win this fight. He had to win the whole game. He had to make Sensei Lawrence proud.

Without another word, he quickly spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick, but Aisha took a step backward, reaching out with her hands to block and push it back. She took his next hit too, bringing up her arms to absorb his attempt at a straight-forward punch. When he whirled around with an elbow-drive, she flexed her arms up in a flash again to impede the impact. Same thing happened when Miguel tried punching again. She was like a fortress.

They knew each other’s fighting styles by now. Miguel was well aware that Aisha was a wall of defense. She would take hit after hit and either absorb or block them, until she spotted a moment’s weakness in her enemy. Only then she would strike, when she knew she would win. Miguel couldn’t give her that chance. When Aisha hit, she hit hard.

Her elbow flew up to block another one of Miguel’s punches, and when she tried to punch him in return, Miguel leapt back, avoiding her fist. She then attempted to kick him, but Miguel blocked it with his hands, pushing her away. He then crouched down low and swept his leg out, hooking his foot behind Aisha’s left calf, which sent her falling on her back on the ground. When she quickly rolled over to her hands and knees to try and get back up, Miguel rushed to her side and grabbed her red headband before she could, winning the fight. 

Getting up on her feet again, Aisha shook her head, looking pretty disappointed. “Damn it!” she said, adjusting her glasses before stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “I should’ve known you’d do something like that.”

All Miguel could think to do was smile and shrug innocently. “Sorry,” he apologized again. But Aisha gave him a reassuring squeeze on the elbow while she passed by him to show there were no hard feelings. He returned it with a pat on her shoulder. Miguel pocketed his prize and then walked in the other direction. He did the math in his head. With Aisha out, how many more were left on the Red Team? Hell, how many were even left on his own team? He hadn’t spotted Tory in a while, she must’ve been taken out, too.

That just left him and Hawk, didn’t it?

He kept walking. Apart from the noise his shoes made rusting through the dry foliage, the woods were ominously silent. The trees were calm, with almost no wind blowing through the canopies to rustle the branches. Even the birds were quiet, no chirping or screeching to be heard. Just the crumpling of the stiff leaves under his feet. It felt like he was the only living thing at Coyote Creek at that moment, that he was all alone. He knew he wasn’t alone, though. He knew his last adversary was out there, trying to find him. They were both predator and prey.

It was just the sort of scenario that might make someone feel watched, followed, and paranoid. But Miguel did not scare easily, nor did he panic. He was made of much tougher stuff than that. He was the champion, after all. You didn’t get to be the champion by being a wimp.

“Finally, a worthy opponent.” Miguel turned around to see Hawk walk up towards him, stopping a few feet away. A quick glance at his pants pocket confirmed Miguel’s suspicions that, indeed, Hawk was the one who had wiped out his teammates from the game. The two of them just stood still for a moment, facing each other, neither of them making the first move yet. Hawk spoke up again. “So, had enough time to clear your head yet?”

“I still don’t think you should’ve escalated things with Miyagi-Do,” responded Miguel, his features becoming guarded. Why couldn’t Hawk just take a moment to think things through before acting? Miguel knew he had his own share of screw-ups, but at least he always tried to keep the big picture in mind. Hawk always sweated the small stuff. Miyagi-Do was probably never going to stop trying to undermine Cobra Kai now that Hawk had directly threatened them. He should’ve just let Sensei Lawrence continue to handle things.

Hawk frowned. That wasn’t the response he’d wanted to hear. “Well, I had to do something.” They all had reputations at Cobra Kai, including Miguel; reputations that were worth defending against slander. And Hawk clung desperately to his own. He wasn’t going to let anyone mess with it. After a hesitant beat, he looked at Miguel and added heatedly, “Unlike you, I’m not gonna be anyone else’s doormat.” 

That made Miguel’s fists clench at his sides, and he pressed his mouth in a thin line as he took a frustrated breath. “I’m _not_ a doormat,” he countered, irritation thick in his voice. Just who did Hawk think he was talking to?

“Then stop acting like one,” retorted Hawk, narrowing his blue eyes. 

Fine. If that was how Hawk wanted to be, Miguel would prove to him just how much of a doormat he wasn’t. 

Miguel got into a fighting stance, and Hawk immediately did the same. Hawk attacked first. That was his style. Whereas Aisha was all defense, Hawk was a veritable blitzkrieg of offensive maneuvers. He liked to beat his enemies into submission as quickly as possible, before they could ever get a hit on him. He attacked with a barrage of swift kicking motions, which Miguel ducked, evaded, and blocked, one after the other.

As soon as he saw his opening, Miguel then went on the offense himself with his own series of sweeping kicks, but Hawk kept backing up to avoid any of them making contact. Miguel knew if he could just land a solid hit at the right moment, he would win. Hawk always thought the best defense was more offense, he’d never taken the time to properly learn how to develop a more pragmatic strategy for defending himself besides simply attacking back. 

Hawk tried taking control of the fight again by throwing back-to-back punches at Miguel, but Miguel caught his arm and pulled him down to drive his knee into Hawk’s gut. He then flipped him over onto the ground. When Miguel took a step backwards, Hawk reached out with his hands and grabbed the arms that let him go, and he pulled Miguel back in, striking out with both his feet to kick his opponent against a tree.

Rolling over and getting back up on his feet, Hawk rushed over and attempted to deliver a drive kick at Miguel, but Miguel ducked to avoid it at the last moment. When Hawk tried attacking him again, Miguel blocked his punch, and then punched him back. That one made contact. He swiftly grabbed Hawk’s arm as he stumbled backwards and pulled him back in, then delivered an elbow strike to his face. Wrapping his opponent’s arm over his shoulders, he then grabbed one of Hawk’s legs and drove him hard onto the ground. 

Hawk tried to get back up, but could only manage to slowly roll onto his back. He was too sore to put up anymore resistance. Miguel caught his breath for a second before walking over to where he laid. Reaching down, Miguel wrapped his fingers around Hawk’s red headband and tugged it off. Their fight was over, and Miguel had won. Who was the doormat now?

When he turned around, Miguel saw that everyone else had made their way over to where they had been skirmishing, the other students and their Senseis. Miguel held up his trophy with a triumphant yell, declaring victory for the Black Team. Tory and the others on his team cheered in return. And Miguel caught the way Sensei Lawrence gave him a little nod, at the way the corner of his mouth curled up.

Sensei Kreese glanced behind Miguel, where Hawk was pushing himself up into a sitting position with a groan. Turning his hard eyes on Miguel, the King Cobra jutted his chin out and coldly ordered, “Finish him.”

Holding the red headband in the air, Miguel looked at Sensei Kreese as he issued him that order. He thought about how frustrating Hawk had been ever since he told him about his run-in with Sam, how he’d been reckless by threatening Miyagi-Do when he should’ve just used some goddamn impulse control for once. If Hawk was so big on finishing a fight, maybe it would be good to show him just how that would go down. Maybe a solid kick to the face would finally knock some sense into him.

But Miguel hesitated. Lowering his arm, he glanced over his shoulder at Hawk, who looked up at him wide-eyed from where he was sitting on the ground. Miguel’s heart raced, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t finish the fight. 

He didn’t make a big show. He just turned back around and returned the formidable look Sensei Kreese was leveling at him. Sensei Lawrence and the others were all watching him expectantly, wondering what he would do. “I got the last headband,” Miguel said. “It’s over. Black Team wins!” He raised his arm with the red headband in his hand again, sending his teammates back into an uproarious cheer.

While they were jubilantly celebrating, Hawk stood back up on his feet. He was confused. Why would Miguel violate the modus operandi of Cobra Kai and show mercy to an opponent? Why wouldn’t he finish the fight? The whole point of coming up there to Coyote Creek was to show Sensei Lawrence what Sensei Kreese had been teaching them in his absence. So why show pity? Sensei Kreese had never taught them that.

The Black Team’s cheers turned into gasps suddenly when the foliage behind Miguel rustled, and Raymond jumped out from a pile of dead leaves, rushing over and catching Miguel in a headlock out of nowhere. Spitting out some dirt in his mouth, he said, “You know the thing about stingrays is, they lie in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike!” With that, he yanked Miguel’s headband off his head and shouted, “The Red Team just won! Whoo!” 

The Red Team went positively nuts over their last-minute, come-from-behind coup. They all crowded around Raymond as he proudly presented Sensei Kreese with Miguel’s headband between his teeth. The King Cobra had an amused smirk on his face, taking the headband and praising his student with, “Good work, Stingray.”

But one look at Sensei Lawrence’s face pushed to the side whatever soreness Miguel felt from having his win suddenly snatched away. Sensei had a small smile on his face, like the one he’d had that night at the burger place, when he told Miguel he’d always be on his side. He took a couple steps over to Miguel and looked him in the eyes. His smile widened the slightest, and he gave Miguel a firm pat on the shoulder. “Nice job,” he told him simply, although it looked like he wanted to say so much more; but he walked over to congratulate Stingray next, since he was technically the winner.

Miguel beamed. He’d come out here to make his Sensei proud, and he thought he would have had to win the game in order to do it. Yet, he had lost, but Sensei Lawrence was proud of him regardless, because Miguel was beginning to understand some of what he meant about the difference between no mercy and no honor. That made Miguel feel better than gold. So what if he’d lost this game at Coyote Creek? He’d won something far greater instead.

Letting out a sigh, Hawk forced a smile on his face, even though his spirits did not match his expression, and he joined in with Aisha and the others on the Red Team in congratulating Stingray for bringing their team to victory. Hawk would give credit where credit was due. Stingray may have been copying his style, but he had earned his win with that maneuver, as well as his new nickname. That was how it was done.

He glanced over at Sensei Kreese. The King Cobra didn’t say a word. He just gave Hawk a single unreadable look before turning away to give his attention back to Stingray. Hawk’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Even though he himself had taken down five opponents, Hawk felt ashamed all of a sudden. He felt so ashamed for not winning, for letting Sensei Kreese down, for being a loser. It felt worse than his loss against Miyagi-Do at the mall.

He then looked at Miguel, who stood to the side with his hands in his pockets, looking so confident and pleased, despite his loss. Hawk smirked and strolled over to where he was standing, before throwing an arm over his shoulders amiably. “Guess you’re not really the champ anymore, huh?” he joked.

Miguel's cheesy grin spread over his face and he shook his head. Now he was able to see how actually pretty funny the whole thing had been. “Gotta admit, I didn’t see that one coming.”


	11. Swivel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swivel: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. A device usually consisting of two metal pieces attached such that one piece can turn freely while the other piece is kept still. A swivel attaches a raptor's jesses to a leash (or to a creance), so that the raptor can move without the jesses or leash getting tangled.  
2\. Small metal joint used in between the leash and the jesses. When these birds are on the perch, they make many small movements turning around and such. Without the swivel they would very quickly become entangled and endanger themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

“Miggy, how would you feel about meeting Graham?” called out Carmen Diaz as she walked out of her bedroom, then down the hallway to the living room, adjusting one of her earrings as she did so.

From where he was busy rummaging through the cabinets to find something quick and full of protein to snack on before practice, Miguel leaned back and looked over at his mom. “I’m guessing you guys hit it off on your date?” he commented with a grin, reaching back into the cabinet to grab the jar of chunky peanut butter. In the past, his mother would only bring guys home to meet the family if things went really well on the first date. He figured she must have high hopes about this one. “Yeah, that’s cool with me.”

His mother hooked her name tag to her nurse’s scrubs and smoothed out a few wrinkles from the top of the uniform. “We’ll be going out again tonight, I’ll let him know he can come over here for dinner on Wednesday, then.” Miguel knew his mother was quick to introduce prospective boyfriends to him because she wanted to weed out any men who would have an issue with her being a single mom with a kid. Miguel also considered himself a pretty good bullshit detector. If this guy smelled like bullshit, he’d be sure to chase him off. He’d never let any sleezeball hurt his mom.

“Sounds good,” said Miguel, pulling a spoon out of the cutlery drawer before closing it with his hip.

Carmen strolled to the kitchen to grab the bagged lunch from the table she’d prepared for herself that morning. Seeing Miguel dipping his tablespoon into the peanut butter, she reached over and kissed the back of his head, reminding him, “Don’t eat straight from the jar.”

Miguel made his case for doing so. “There’s only a little bit left.” He held it up for her to see as proof.

“Okay then. I’m going grocery shopping tomorrow, add that to the list so we don’t forget.” She walked to the living room to grab her purse, and looked over her shoulder to watch while Miguel jotted that down on the writing pad they had magnetized to the fridge with the little pencil that was tied to it. “Speaking of boyfriends,” she said, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards, “when are you going to invite yours over?”

“Oh, well, I guess he can come over anytime,” answered Miguel, taking the spoon back in his hand. He then raised his eyebrows and joked, “I mean, you’ve met Hawk before, I didn’t think he’d have to go through the whole interrogation process.”

His mother gave him a knowing stare and emphasized, “It’s not an interrogation, it’s just a dinner. Why don’t you invite him over on Thursday?”

Miguel nodded. “Alright, I’ll ask him.”

Carmen fished around the bottom of her purse for her keys as she asked, “Since I’ll be getting groceries tomorrow, does he have any dietary restrictions? You said he’s Jewish, right? Does he eat shellfish? They have shrimp on sale, your Ya-Ya was thinking of making ceviche de camarón a few times this week. But I can pick up some chicken, too.”

“I think he told me he only does kosher for the holidays, but I’ll double-check,” answered Miguel, eating a big spoonful of the chunky peanut butter.

“Alright, well I’m off to work,” said his mother, making her way towards the door. She gave him a little wave before stepping outside. “Have a good day at practice. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he called out to her through the peanut butter sticking thickly to the roof of his mouth. After she left, Miguel then strolled back over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of Minute Maid orange juice to help wash down the snack.

He went and sat down at the kitchen table, alternating between taking a sip of his orange juice and scraping the peanut butter from the bottom of the jar by the spoonful. His eyes flitted toward the window closest to the door and imagined he could see through it to the apartment complex across from his own. Sensei Lawrence was already at the dojo, judging by how his car had been absent from the parking lot when Miguel checked on the mail that morning.

It felt like Sensei had been gone for so long that it had been easy to forget that he still had the big news to tell him. And Miguel had come to the firm conclusion that he really needed to tell him about it. Because it wouldn’t feel right to hide it from him. And, if the worst should happen after he did tell him, it was better that he find that out for sure. But no hiding it from Sensei. No being afraid. Fear did not exist in this dojo.

A sudden knock at the door whisked his attention from the well of his deep thoughts. Miguel drained the rest of his orange juice from the glass in three big gulps before putting it in the sink. He tossed the empty jar in the garbage can, and then ran towards the door, grabbing his backpack from the couch with his white gi and other essentials on the way out.

Hawk greeted him when he opened the door. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” said Miguel, reaching around to lock the door behind him with his key, “my mom wants to know if you want to come over for dinner Thursday night.”

With a shrug of his shoulder, Hawk smiled and answered, “Sure. It’s funny you bring it up, actually. My parents were wondering if you wanted to come over on Wednesday. Guess our families are on the same wavelength this week. Just a head’s up, it’s pretty much gonna be an interrogation if you say yes. Don’t take it personally, they did the same thing to Moon.”

Miguel looked at him as they started walking away from his apartment. Most parents were the same across cultures, it seemed. The ones who cared about their kids, anyway. “Actually, I got plans on Wednesday night,” he admitted with a grimace, feeling bad to decline the offer. He remembered there was a time when he would’ve killed to have been invited over to the LaRussos, back when he was dating Sam. “I gotta meet Mom’s new boyfriend.”

“No prob, we could just do Friday night, instead,” suggested Hawk with another shrug of his shoulder.

Miguel grinned and he nodded. “Alright. I’d like that.” He’d met the Moskowitzes before, when the Cobras had all gone to watch a movie at Hawk’s house after practice one day. He knew they were nice people. But he also knew that meeting them as their son’s boyfriend, rather than just his karate friend, was different. It just was. He wasn’t worried, though. Excited, more like. Did Hawk even know how good it felt to be introduced as someone important like that? Did he know what a big deal that was?

As soon as they got to the corner, Miguel dropped his backpack to the ground, then grabbed Hawk’s shoulders and gently pushed him against the side of the building. Hawk had just enough time to suck in a tight breath before Miguel moved in to kiss him. As soon as Hawk felt Miguel’s lips on his own, one of his hands flew up to Miguel’s dark hair, raking his fingers through it, while the other gripped at his t-shirt, just to have something to hold onto. 

Miguel’s hands wandered down and found their way to Hawk’s waist, and he firmly pulled him closer towards his body. That made Hawk moan into his mouth, and Miguel felt the hand in his hair travel back around to touch the nape of his neck. He loved how that felt, how it made the nerves in his body suddenly tingle. He drew out their frantic kisses for as long as possible, before they had no choice but to break for breath.

When he pulled back, Miguel breathed in hard. He then smiled as he breathlessly asked, “We good?” He didn’t like to leave loose ends untied. 

Hawk let out a winded laugh. “Yeah. I told you before, we’re cool.” After a beat, he arched his eyebrows suggestively and joked, “Wanna ditch class today and just keep doing this?”

“You wish,” chuckled Miguel, reaching down to pick his bag back up and sling one of the straps over his shoulder. Part of him was enticed by the idea, but no way could they miss karate practice. There’d be plenty of time to make out later. That would certainly be something to look forward to.

Hawk licked the corner of his upper lip as the two of them walked over towards his car. Giving Miguel a look before he opened his door, he asked, “Why do you taste like peanut butter?” 

Miguel just laughed.

Another day at practice, another piece of big news that threw things out of whack: Sensei Kreese was gone. Sensei Lawrence told the class that he had kicked his own Sensei out of the dojo, for their own good. “I made a promise when I became your Sensei, to always look out for your best interests,” Sensei Lawrence told them. “Despite how hard this may be for all of us, he didn’t have our best interests at heart. John Kreese may have founded Cobra Kai, but he no longer represents what this dojo stands for. His Cobra Kai was old and outdated.”

Nobody had seen that one coming. Least of all Hawk. He had actually been hoping to maybe speak to Sensei Kreese in private later, to seek some advice after his loss at Coyote Creek, to see how he could do better next time and become a winner. He had not come to the dojo that day expecting to never see the King Cobra ever again. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, all of a sudden, that the ground beneath his feet had caved in.

There had been too much change going on in Cobra Kai lately for Hawk’s taste, too many sweeping of the routines that kept catching him off guard. First Sensei Lawrence had flipped out after the All-Valley Tournament and was suddenly talking about metaphors involving cobras taking down lions versus injured monkeys. Then Sensei Kreese came into the picture. Things became a bit more stable for a while after that, at least. But now he was gone, and Sensei Lawrence was being all weird again. 

“To be a great fighter, you gotta learn to adapt,” Sensei Lawrence instructed the class that day. He’d pointed to the Cobra Kai mantra in front of them to stress, “This creed on the wall. Follow it to the letter, it’ll make you strong. It’ll make you formidable. It’ll also make you an asshole. ‘Cause that’s just black paint on a white wall. But life’s not black and white. More often than not, it’s grey. And it’s in those grey areas where Johnny Lawrence’s Cobra Kai sometimes shows mercy.”

After that, he had the students practice headbutting, which was admittedly pretty fun. But he said it was because he wanted them to start learning how to think with their heads, not just with their guts or fists. Whatever that meant.

Hawk just wanted things to go back to when they were simple and easy to understand: Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy. Nothing was easier to comprehend than that. Now Sensei Lawrence was throwing a wrench in the cog and clogging things up. Sometimes Cobra Kai shows mercy? When though? That’s what Hawk wanted to know. When were they supposed to show mercy? In all fights? In some of them? What were the grey areas Sensei Lawrence was talking about? How would Hawk know how to spot them when he saw them? What if their enemy was actually trying to hurt them for real, did they still show mercy then?

He was so confused. Miguel seemed to get it, which made Hawk feel stupid, like he was missing something that must have been blindingly obvious. He preferred how Sensei Kreese had explained things to him, instead. The King Cobra’s lessons were straightforward and uncomplicated. You were either a winner or a loser. You hurt the enemy before they could hurt you. You finished the fight, no matter what. Hawk was going to miss that clear and concise language. He certainly wouldn’t be getting it from Sensei Lawrence anytime soon. Not anymore, it seemed.

That wasn’t the only thing he would miss about having Sensei Kreese around, either. Hawk remembered the times during the previous week when the old man had kept him company while he had cleaning duty, telling him stories about the old Cobra Kai, about his time taking down warlords, and giving him nuggets of practical wisdom. Sensei Kreese had actually liked him. Hawk was really going to miss all of that.

He tried voicing his thoughts later after practice to Miguel, when they were all getting changed into their normal clothes. “Do you really think Sensei Kreese is gone for good?” he asked, folding his white gi top before stuffing it into his gym bag.

As he rolled on some deodorant, Miguel shrugged. “Sounds like it.”

“Why do you think Sensei Lawrence kicked him out?” asked Hawk, pulling his t-shirt out of the bag.

Miguel put on his own shirt and pointed out, “You heard him. If you don’t move forward, you get stuck like cement.”

Great. More metaphors. Hawk maneuvered his arms awkwardly to get the shirt over his head without messing up his mohawk. “But what did he teach us that was so outdated? It all seemed pretty fitting to me.” What was so outdated about being taught how to survive in a world where enemies were everywhere and always out to get you, in a world that was cruel, vicious, and without mercy? 

“You could always go ask Sensei,” suggested Miguel, zipping his backpack up after he pulled his phone from it. Hawk shot him an incredulous look, like it was the most nonsensical thing he’d ever said in his life. “I’m serious. Dude, come on, he’s a reasonable guy, if you don’t get something, he’ll explain it to you.”

Hawk just rolled his eyes, but Miguel kept giving him that pressing glance, urging him to listen to his advice. Well, what did he have to lose? Not like Sensei could find anymore bitch work for him to do that was worse than bathroom scrubbing duty. So after finishing getting dressed, Hawk tentatively walked into the back room of the dojo, where Sensei Lawrence had went after class to put some equipment away. Putting his hands behind his back, he spoke up, “Uh, Sensei?”

Sensei Lawrence gave him a glance from over his shoulder. “I tossed out the old mop, if you’re wondering,” he said, turning his attention to piling a bunch of mats away on the metal shelf, stacking them like they were lego blocks to get them to fit. “Thing was looking pretty ancient, should’ve tossed it a long time ago. New one’s in the closet.” 

That was a bit of unexpected good news at least, but hardly the reason he was there. Mustering his nerve, Hawk said, “Uh, no. Actually, I wanted to ask about Sensei Kreese.”

The back of Sensei’s shoulders looked like they tensed up at hearing him say that name. “What about him?”

“Why did you kick him out?” asked Hawk, raising his eyebrows inquisitively, fumbling with his fingers behind his back so he didn’t lose his resolve. “What was he teaching that was so bad?”

Sensei Lawrence just continued to put the equipment away, stuffing a mat in between the others with particularly harsh and jerky movements as he did so. “You don’t need to be worried about that.” Of course he would try to dismiss his questions, thought Hawk bitterly. It was like the confrontation about Robby Keene all over again. Hawk should have known this would be a fruitless endeavor.

And yet, he still found himself trying regardless. Maybe he just wasn’t phrasing things right. He wanted to tell Sensei Lawrence why he was so distressed about Sensei Kreese leaving. Did Sensei Lawrence even know how good Sensei Kreese had been to him? How he didn’t make Hawk feel like an idiot, how he explained things clearly to him, how he tried to make him into a winner, how he made him feel special? “B-But, Sensei, a lot of what Sensei Kreese said made sense, and I was wondering what….”

He trailed off when Sensei Lawrence turned around and looked at him. His mouth was straight, his brow furrowed, his nose pinched, and his eyes were wide. Hawk didn’t know what to make of that look. Sensei Lawrence had a face that was difficult to read. He was always so guarded, it felt like. The only expression that was simple to call on him was when he was pissed off. He didn’t look angry right now, however. Was he disappointed? Sad? Ashamed?

But then, after a hesitant moment, he opened his mouth and told Hawk, “Don’t you have a toilet you should be cleaning right now?” Sensei Lawrence tore his gaze away and dismissively returned his attention to stacking mats on the shelves without saying another word to his student.

Hawk blinked, momentarily stunned by what his ears had just heard. Then he pressed his lips in a thin line and narrowed his eyes. He gave his instructor a curt bow and muttered, “Yes, Sensei.” With that, he turned around and trudged out into the hallway. Miguel was standing right outside, shaking his head. He’d heard the whole thing, and knew his advice had just blown up in his face. Hawk gave him a look that said _I-told-you-so_ before making his way towards the dojo’s bathroom.

Miguel couldn’t stop himself from stepping into the back room and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sensei….”

“What, you next?” asked Sensei Lawrence, shoving a shin-guard hard on the shelf so it would fit in the pile.

Biting his lip and putting his hands behind his back in the respectful stance expected of a karate student, Miguel tried to explain, “Hawk was just curious about what happened with Sensei Kreese. We’re all a little confused, to be honest. We just thought….” He stopped himself too when Sensei Lawrence stopped what he was doing and turned to look at him.

Miguel could see open vulnerability in Sensei Lawrence’s eyes, the openness he’d shown him when he confessed his personal failings when it had come to being there for his son. “Look,” said his Sensei, “I made…a mistake by bringing Sensei Kreese into the dojo. I shouldn’t have left him alone with you kids. And I’m correcting that mistake. That’s all you guys need to know. Just trust me, alright?”

It was obvious to Miguel something deeper was going on. He heard the restraint in Sensei Lawrence’s voice. The subject sounded personally painful for him. Of course it was. Sensei Kreese had been his friend, he’d been his Sensei, the one who’d taught him everything he knew. It made Miguel wonder if maybe Sensei Lawrence had looked to Sensei Kreese the way Miguel looked up to him, as the closest thing to a father he’d ever have. Miguel could only imagine how much it must have hurt Sensei Lawrence to throw him out of the dojo, out of his life. So he assured him, “Of course, Sensei.”


	12. Hood-shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hood-shy: adjective  
Falconry.  
1\. A trained hawk that avoids and resents being hooded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

“I want to tell Sensei. About what’s going on between us. I want to do it tonight.” Miguel told that to Hawk after he drove him back to his apartment after class that day. Sitting in the passenger seat of the car, Miguel watched the way Hawk awkwardly shifted in his own seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He looked about as comfortable with that idea as he had the first time Miguel brought it up; which was to say, not comfortable at all. “I wanted to check and make sure you’re okay with that, first.”

A part of Hawk wanted to argue about it. His mind hadn’t changed much on that subject since they’d talked about it the previous week. And after his exchange with Sensei Lawrence earlier that day, Hawk didn’t think such a talk would go anywhere good. But Miguel sounded really adamant, and he was giving him that pitiful look. It was a look that was hard to say no to; Hawk would have to be on guard for that look going forward. This must have been a big deal for Miguel. Of course it was. He and Sensei Lawrence were close.

So Hawk relented. “Whatever. It’s fine by me.”

“You sure?” Miguel verified. If Hawk had told him no, he wouldn’t have gone through with it. But he would be lying if he didn’t say he was so glad to hear him say it was fine.

Hawk shrugged his shoulders. “Better you tell him than me,” he pointed out. After thinking about it a second, however, he followed up by asking, “Do you need me to back you up, though?” If Miguel ever needed him to have his back, he’d have it. Even against Sensei.

Miguel shook his head. “No, I should probably just handle it on my own.” Things were going to be awkward enough. If Hawk was there, too, Sensei would probably think they were ganging up on him or turning against him or something.

Hawk glanced up at him, observing the way Miguel’s brows pinched, at how he chewed on his bottom lip with worry. He didn’t envy him the task he’d set out for himself, because if the choice had been solely up to him, he would have left Sensei Lawrence in the dark about this until the end of time. But he could see how important it was for Miguel. Hawk didn’t know how to reassure him, though, because he had next to no expectations that the thing would go smoothly, and he didn’t want to lie and say he did. 

All he could think to do was clap Miguel on the shoulder and give it a squeeze, saying, “Godspeed, man.”

Miguel went over to Sensei Lawrence’s later that evening after dinner, on the pretense of delivering some leftover flan that his Ya-Ya had made for dessert. Sensei scooped them out some onto a couple paper plates, and they ate it while they relaxed on the couch and made some small talk. Miguel drifted in and out while Sensei spoke about a couple plans for class he had in mind in the immediate future, all the while alternating between bites of flan and sips of the beer he’d cracked open.

Miguel felt a bit guilty that his Sensei’s talk wasn’t holding his attention, but the big thing was taking up most of his mind space, he couldn’t help it. He just kept thinking about it as he dipped his spoon into his flan and brought it up to his mouth without even realizing it; he ate whenever he was nervous. He barely even heard Sensei Lawrence when he agreed that it tasted fantastic. 

“Tell your mom or grandma or whoever made this that it’s even better than that three-milks cake,” said Johnny, wolfing down a forkful. The caramel custard really was delicious. 

Beside him, Miguel nodded. He then wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He must have done that a dozen times since walking into Sensei’s apartment. 

Miguel thought about how to word this. Why did words have to be so complicated? This whole thing was going to depend heavily on how he could word what was going on, and so much of it was still new to Miguel. He had to admit to himself: he was scared. Even the champ was allowed to be scared, too, right? “So, um, did I tell you I’m seeing someone new?” That’s good, Miguel thought to himself. Be nonchalant. It wasn’t a big deal, don’t treat it like one.

Johnny gave his star student an amused glance, cocking one eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he asked, kicking his feet up on the table in front of the couch. Taking a big forkful from the flan, and then a sip from his beer, he inquired with a full mouth, “Is this chick hot?” Sensei Lawrence, always with the right priorities. 

Okay. He’d given him an opening. Time to grab it and just go all-in. “Uh, well,” Miguel said, mushing the flan on his plate with the flat of his spoon absent-mindedly, “you see, Sensei, while you were gone, Hawk and I, we….” He trailed off for a second, seeing the way Sensei Lawrence’s brows furrowed a bit. But, judging by how he hadn’t been able to just drop hints with his mother and Ya-Ya to get them to understand, Miguel knew there was no point in trying to be subtle with his Sensei. Best to be honest and completely straightforward, to leave no wiggle room for what he meant. “Hawk’s the one I’m seeing now.” He took a deep breath and grimaced a little, bracing for impact.

Sensei’s eyes got real big, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite of flan in his mouth before he pressed his lips in a tight, thin line. Miguel could hear his breath quicken, and he watched Sensei Lawrence hesitantly lower the plate in his hands down to his lap. He looked so ill-at-ease, the way he was suddenly squirming on the couch, like he couldn’t get comfortable. But he didn’t look angry, or even really that upset. Miguel could deal with him being uncomfortable, he could work with that. He’d expected uncomfortable.

Rubbing a hand down his face, and taking a big swig from his beer, Johnny muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ.” He then reached around and rubbed the back of his neck. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, like he was trying to think of something to say, he finally looked back at Miguel and asked, “So what, are you telling me you guys are gay now?”

It was a bit of a rough question, the way he said it, but to Miguel’s ears it didn’t sound mean-spirited or accusatory. It just sounded like Sensei Lawrence was trying to wrap his head around what he was telling him. He was obviously confused. Miguel had expected confused, too. It felt like an opening, and Miguel would take that. “No, we still like girls, too,” he explained. “We’re just, y’know, alright with guys as well, it turns out. We’re both bi.”

Johnny’s expression contorted some. “Bi? Like, as in bisexual?” Miguel nodded in response to the question. Johnny’s eyebrows raised skeptically on his forehead. He gave Miguel a look and stated with complete self-assurance, “Only hard-partying sorority babes that are into threesomes are bi.”

Not really knowing how to respond to an absurd statement like that, Miguel just said, “Uh, not really? Lots of guys are bi, too.”

“Name one,” challenged Sensei Lawrence, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Good, they were having a real discussion now, this wasn’t going so bad. Not bad at all. Sensei wasn’t freaking out. That was what mattered, really. Mustering his confidence, Miguel answered back, “Um, Freddie Mercury for starters.”

Beside him, Johnny did a double-take. “Wait, you mean Freddie Mercury of Queen? _That_ Freddie Mercury? Pssh, are you shitting me? He wasn’t bi. That guy was a rock legend, he was probably swimming in pussy back then. Chicks love rock stars.”

He still didn’t quite get it. With a grin spreading over his face, feeling the tense muscles in his shoulders starting to loosen up from where they had been wound tight, Miguel pointed out with a slight mocking air to his tone of voice, “No, pretty sure he hit it up with dudes, too. Surprised you didn’t know that. I thought you knew _everything_ about 80s music, Sensei?”

Sensei Lawrence shot him another look. “Alright, wiseass, I’ll factcheck the Google on my laptop later with that one.”

Things got quiet for a few minutes between them then. Both could hear the other breathing, because there was no other noise in that apartment other than their steady pattern of inhaling and exhaling. Sensei Lawrence looked at him before darting his eyes away, and then did it three more times. Miguel wiped his hands on his jeans again. Both seemed to be waiting for the other one to say something first. Miguel would have, if his frazzled brain could muster anymore words at the moment.

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck once more. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend that I understand everything about this stuff,” he admitted, finally breaking the stifling silence. “And if you’re gonna be looking for any advice when it comes to where to play hide-the-plantain in this situation, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. Back in my day, you chose a side, it was either chicks or dicks. But if you’re asking if I’m cool with…y’know. This.” He gave Miguel a small, uneasy smile. “I told you, I’m on your side.”

“Thanks, Sensei!” Miguel absolutely beamed. He was sure he could have melted into the couch precisely at that moment, he was so relieved. It felt like the world had been lifted off his shoulders after carrying that burden around all week, after his mind had played all the possible what-ifs for how the situation could have gone wrong. He almost felt light-headed, it was such a rush to hear his Sensei say that to him. And with that behind him, Miguel immediately wanted to get the attention off himself. He was mentally done, one-hundred percent. So, eating more of the dessert on his plate, he asked his Sensei, “So, what about you?”

“Still into chicks,” answered Sensei Lawrence without missing a beat, taking another swig of his beer.

Miguel snorted at that and just shook his head. Eventually Sensei would get it, with enough time. “No, I mean, are you seeing anybody or…?”

Johnny polished off his flan and dismissively told the boy beside him, “Don’t worry about me, alright? I do just fine.”

With a roll of his shoulder, Miguel nodded. “Okay.” He licked the caramel sticking to his spoon for a few seconds before adding, “If you wanted to, I could set you up on an app.” His Sensei gave him another skeptical look, with that eyebrow wrenched high on his forehead. Right. Sensei using a dating app, what was he thinking? Hell, just the thought of Sensei having a smart phone at all was a riot. But Miguel caught himself still saying, “That’s how my mom found her boyfriend.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?” asked Sensei Lawrence, tapping his fingers against his bottle.

“It’s going well,” answered Miguel, swallowing the last bite of his dessert. “She had some pretty bad luck with guys, so it’s nice to see her happy.” He remembered how hopeful his mother had sounded that morning, when she’d asked him if he wanted to meet Graham. She’d been more upbeat the past week than Miguel could remember her being in some time. He wanted to continue seeing her so optimistic. 

Sensei Lawrence took another big drink from his beer bottle. “That’s good, I’m glad to hear that,” he said. It sounded remarkably tense to Miguel’s ears, the way he said it, like he _wasn’t_ glad to hear that for some reason. But then Sensei asked, “So, uh, alright, what’s the deal with this app thing?”

Miguel grinned. He knew the rest of the night was going to be smooth sailing from there.

It was 4:47AM in Encino when Ruth Moskowitz heard noise coming from the living room. She had to verify with the clock on the wall to make sure before she walked through the kitchen and headed over to that room to check. “Eli?” Her son was sitting on the couch in the dark, one hand holding the television remote, the other mindlessly running his fingers through his undercut as he leaned his elbow on the armrest. The light from the TV cast a soft blue glow in the room, illuminating how tired he looked. She didn’t need to ask what he was doing awake at such an ungodly hour. She knew.

“Did I wake you up?” asked Hawk, glancing up at his mother as she walked over to sit beside him on the couch. He thought he’d turned the volume down low enough that he wouldn’t bother his parents.

His mom shook her head and assured him, “No, I just couldn’t sleep.” She looked over at the television and asked him, “What are you watching?”

Hawk shrugged. “Nothing, really.” Back in the past whenever he’d been woken up, either by his alarm or by the thing the alarm was supposed to prevent, he would try to lull himself back to sleep by playing video games or reading comic books by flashlight. 

But Hawk had long since stuffed that nerd shit into boxes and hidden them under his bed, out of sight and out of mind. So he’d went to the living room and turned on the television instead. Even then, though, Netflix and Hulu felt like a minefield, the way they reminded him where he left off on all his geeky shows from a few months ago, how they were still there, waiting for him to finish them. Hawk had ignored them and instead flipped absent-mindedly through the movie selections, hoping maybe he’d find some mindless action flick to watch. Nothing really grabbed his interest. So he didn’t object when his mother reached out for the remote and asked, “Mind if I pick a movie?” He just shrugged again and gave the remote to her.

She picked some light-hearted rom-com, probably because she didn’t want to pick something they’d get too invested in watching, so maybe they could both try falling back asleep again soon. Hawk didn’t pay too much attention to it. His mind drifted to Moon. The last post of hers he saw on Instagram showed her looking perfectly happy and content. Hawk wondered if she ever regretted breaking things off, even once. He doubted it. Was it that easy for her to get over him? He supposed that was fair, considering how quickly he’d jumped into things with Miguel.

When he thought about Miguel, Hawk remembered the text from earlier that night telling him how things went way better than expected with Sensei Lawrence. That was good. One less thing to worry about. Hawk would have thought it might have made him feel better to hear that news than it did. He was glad for Miguel, because he knew how important it was for him that this went well. What it meant for him, though? 

He really wished Miguel was with him right now.

Hawk rubbed his right temple. His head was throbbing for some reason. Probably the light from the television in the dark room. 

His mom shot him an immediate look. Right back into Mom Mode. “You feeling alright?” she asked. He just nodded, not in the mood to go into it. From where she sat beside him, his mother touched his arm. “You’re feeling very tense. Remember what the doctor just told you about managing your stress.”

He sighed. “I know.” _Stupid quack_, thought Hawk. The doctor never had anything new or helpful to say about the problem. He knew going in for a checkup wasn’t going to make any difference. It was always the same advice, always the same bullshit. Hawk didn’t know why his parents even bothered anymore.

“Have you been managing it, though?” asked his mother, skepticism so clear in her voice. “You heard him, it will help with your enuresis.”

“I know!” he snapped this time. Hawk regretted it when he glanced at his mother’s face. She looked both irritated and hurt. “I’m sorry.” He never used to so consistently snap at his parents the way he had been of late. Then again, he never used to lie to them or keep big secrets from them either, before joining Cobra Kai. But he guessed that was just part of becoming a man, figuring out what his parents needed to know and what they didn’t.

Ruth pressed her lips together for a moment before telling her son, “You know if something is bothering you, you can tell me. And, if it’s about something you’re not comfortable talking about with me, you can always ask your father.”

Hawk cheeks burned at hearing that, and he thought about the day when his dad had sat him down to have The Talk shortly after he’d started dating Moon; as if he hadn’t been on the Internet his whole adolescence, where even if you didn’t want to learn about that sort of thing, you still found out. He told his mom, “Nothing’s going on. Really.”

“You haven’t seemed like yourself lately. And I don’t mean with the red hair.” She reached out with her left hand and ran her fingers once through his undercut before tucking some of the hair behind his ear.

His mom gave him a sad look. She’d been sad a lot lately, thought Hawk. And not sad in the way she got whenever he used to tell her about his problems at school, because then there was always a fierce protectiveness behind it. Now it was like there was confusion motivating the sadness. Because she knew something was wrong, she always did, but she didn’t know what it was; and if she didn’t know what it was, if he wouldn’t tell her, how could she make it better?

Hawk remembered the countless times throughout his life when his mother would be there for him after a breakdown. When he was little, she would pull him into her lap, rest his head on her shoulder, and rock him. She knew the movement was comforting to him, that it calmed him down and let him regulate his senses. But Hawk wasn’t little anymore. He couldn’t count on his mom to make things better.

He used to be able to go to his mom and dad for anything. But now he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. They would probably make things worse. He knew he was probably scaring them a little. And he was sorry about that, because he did love his parents.

Hawk could tell his mother really wanted to talk to him. She wanted him to open up. She wasn’t used to him not coming to her with his problems. But rather than caving, he just smiled some and leaned his head against her shoulder, telling her, “You worry too much, Mom.”


	13. Mantle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mantle: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. (used of a raptor) To spread the wings and tail possessively over food or prey, behavior that begins while young raptors are still in the nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Miguel was busy texting his mom after karate class, waiting outside in the cool summer weather that day for Hawk to finish his cleaning duties, when Mitch stepped out of the dojo and walked up to him. “Hey, you mind if I ask a question about you and Hawk?” he asked, gripping the straps of his backpack tight from where they hung over his shoulders.

Not tearing his attention away from his phone, still typing away with his thumbs at the virtual keyboard, Miguel said, “Sure thing. Shoot.”

“And before I ask, remember, I’m just curious. It only crossed my mind while we were in class.” Mitch hesitated for a second, like he was thinking twice about asking it. But then he leaned forward and inquired in almost a whisper, “So, like, can you feel it when you guys kiss?”

Miguel looked up this time and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You know…,” said Mitch, raising a finger to motion at his upper lip.

“Dude!” exclaimed Miguel, his face pinching in disbelief.

Mitch shrugged a touch guiltily, throwing his hands up to show he meant no offense. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean anything by it. Like I said, I was just wondering.” The door jingled behind them, and when Mitch saw that it was Hawk coming outside, he gripped his backpack straps again and immediately hastened away, calling out, “Later!”

Hawk watched while Mitch hurried across the parking lot and asked Miguel, “What’d he want?”

“Nothing, just a question about something from class,” lied Miguel. Putting his phone away, he then asked, “You ready to head out?”

That day they decided to go dutch and share a couple appetizers at Applebee’s. They had invited Aisha and Tory, but the girls had already committed themselves to going to see a movie that day, an unabashed chick flick at that. Girls' Night Out. No boys allowed. They guessed that was pretty understandable, after all the guy stuff they’d dragged Aisha into, back when she was the only girl at Cobra Kai. So it would just be them. Hawk had noted that it sounded like another date to him. Miguel couldn’t disagree with that.

After they drove to the restaurant and got a table, they ordered their drinks first. Miguel was parched, and couldn’t get a Coke in him fast enough. Once the waitress brought those out, they decided on a basket of chips and salsa, as well as an order of mozzarella sticks. While the waitress wrote it down, Hawk then added, “And, actually, I’ll go ahead and take a beer, too. It was brutal at work today, the boss was being a real pain in the ass. I’m sure you know what I’m talkin’ about. You guys got Coors, right?”

The waitress nodded. “We sure do. I’ll just need to see your IDs, please.”

“It’s just me ordering,” said Hawk, pulling his fake identification card out of his wallet and handing it to the waitress. Jutting his chin out at Miguel, he embellished, “My coworker here hasn’t hit the big two-one yet, poor bastard is still two months away from it. All us guys at the office like to give him shit about it on Friday game night, ‘cause he’s the only one drinking from the Coke bottle while the rest of us are busy getting hammered.” 

The waitress looked up from the ID and back at him, noting, “Gotta say, you look good for twenty-five.” 

“Thanks. All the ladies tell me I got a baby face,” quipped Hawk with a smirk, shooting Miguel a look. The waitress just nodded again and handed him his ID back. Three minutes later, Hawk had his beer.

Pinching his fingers to the bridge of his nose for a second, Miguel couldn’t hold back a grin as he told him, “That was an impressive amount of bullshit right there, Walter.”

“Wasn't it, though?” replied Hawk, taking a big gulp of his drink. “You ever think of getting a fake ID? You gotta admit, they come in handy.”

“Yeah right, do you have any idea the kind of hell my mom would give me if she caught me with one?” pointed out Miguel, sipping some of his Coke down.

Hawk arched an eyebrow and retorted, “Oh, and mine wouldn’t, if she or my dad ever found out about it? Between this and my tattoos, I’d be dead. Like, legit rocks-on-my-tombstone dead.” After taking another drink, he offered, “But for real, if you ever need one, I got a connection that could hook you up. It’s pretty nice, having the option to head right over to the liquor store whenever you want and get completely shit-faced.”

“Sounds fun, I’ll think about it,” joked Miguel, stirring his straw around the glass. Truth was, it didn’t sound fun at all. Miguel had gotten shit-faced only once, and once was enough, considering what the consequences for that action had been. He wasn’t in a hurry to repeat his mistake. “So, what’s the special occasion for you drinking tonight?”

Shaking his head, Hawk said, “No occasion, I just decided I wanted a beer.” After taking another swallow, though, he amended his statement and raised his glass. “Actually, here’s to only having two days of bathroom duty left.”

Miguel toasted to that. “So, have you figured out the lesson Sensei was trying to teach when he assigned you that?”

“Life’s shit and then you die?” suggested Hawk with a crooked smile. That made them both break out in some light-hearted laughter.

Licking his bottom lip, Miguel stirred his straw lazily around in his drink some more while he mulled over his thoughts. “Hey, can I ask a personal question?” He felt his cheeks heat up, and he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he admitted, “Actually, it’s pretty embarrassing.”

Hawk grinned, tapping his fingers on the table in anticipation. “Oh man, this should be good.” Their conversation barely paused when the waitress brought them their mozzarella sticks and chips. As soon as she stepped away, Hawk grabbed one of the cheese sticks and dipped it in the marinara sauce, stuffing it into his mouth before saying, “Go on.”

Miguel took a tortilla chip and scooped some salsa on it. “Remember at the pizza place, how you told me you’ve been crushing on me for a while?” he asked before eating the chip; the salsa was disappointedly, although not surprisingly, mild in taste.

Across from him, Hawk swallowed another bite of the cheese stick slowly, and took a big drink from his beer after. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “That’s not how _I _phrased it, but yeah.”

“Can you elaborate more on it?” asked Miguel, after downing three gulps of his soda through the straw. They hadn’t really ever talked more about it since that day, and Miguel couldn’t help but be curious. Wouldn’t anyone be if they found out someone had a crush on them for some time? “Like, what was it about me that you liked? Besides beating up Kyler.”

Hawk shifted some in his booth seat. His face was getting warm, and he only hoped it didn’t show in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Glancing down at his food before forcing a smug smirk on his face, he joked, “You fishing for compliments?” He shook his head and shoved another cheese stick in his mouth. “Man, you really are a nerd, aren’t you?”

He ought to have expected that Hawk would react that way. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Miguel bit into a chip with more force than was necessary and retorted, “What if I am? Fishing for compliments, I mean?” He reached over and scooped some more salsa on the chip. Thinking of how to save some face, he pointed out, “And maybe you’ve forgotten: I’m the champ. I mean, not to play that card, but you were the one always going on about how I could get anyone I wanted.”

“I was just being nice so you would get over Sam,” replied Hawk, grabbing a tortilla chip from the basket.

Miguel wasn’t going to fall for that. “Nah, man, come on, put your money where your mouth is. Flatter me.” Even he had to cringe a little at how that came out, but it got both of them to laugh again. Good, keep things lively, don’t let it get weird. He really didn’t want this to get too awkward. “But be serious about it.”

He felt ashamed to ask for affirmation so point blank. Maybe he was insecure, deep down. But to hell with it. Sometimes you just wanted to hear nice things about yourself, to be a little praised, to find out why someone would find you attractive. Was that so bad? That wasn’t so bad, right? Maybe his ego was more shattered by his breakup than he’d been willing to examine.

“What do you want me to say?” asked Hawk sincerely, discreetly rubbing his thumb and forefinger together on his left hand. Didn’t Miguel know he wasn’t good at this sort of thing? Hadn’t he known him long enough to understand that he wasn’t a man of words? Why couldn’t he just show people how much they meant to him? Why did they put so much emphasis on being told that he liked them? If he could still give Demetri one thing, at least he’d never forced him to talk about things he didn’t want to; usually Demetri talked for him, in fact, he thought bitterly.

“Well, you don’t _have_ to say anything,” said Miguel, slumping his shoulders a bit while he dipped a mozzarella stick in his hand absent-mindedly into some marinara sauce. Maybe this had been a bad idea. It was too needy, wasn’t it? Guys weren’t supposed to be needy like that. Sensei Lawrence would definitely tell him he was being needy. Needy and desperate.

If Hawk had been braver, if he had been more talented with shaping his feelings into coherent words, he might have told Miguel he was special. Really special. So special that Eli was worried he’d find out and realize he deserved somebody better than him. Instead, he said, “You’re the coolest guy I know.” That wasn’t enough was it? Miguel was looking for more, wasn’t he? So Hawk also impulsively threw in, “Plus you got a hot bod, too,” before eating another couple of tortilla chips.

That made Miguel chuckle between chewing his food. “I told you to be serious.”

“I am serious,” retorted Hawk, raising his eyebrows on his forehead. “You think I haven’t looked all this time? I’m allowed to be a little shallow, right?” He had eyes, and he knew what he liked. What, did Miguel want him to get all poetic about it? Did he want Hawk to tell him he liked his nice face, his dark hair, and his cheesy grin?

Miguel shrugged one of his shoulders. “I guess. I mean, as long as I’m not just eye candy to you.” He mentally kicked himself. That had come across as whiny, hadn’t it? He should have just taken the compliment. He was really on a roll today. His eyes caught the way Hawk’s fingers started to tap on the table. Was Hawk getting annoyed with him?

Miguel just kept looking at him expectantly. Hawk wished he could tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. Moon used to look at him like that, too. Maybe he hadn’t complimented her enough, either. Maybe that was another reason why she’d chosen to break things off.

Hawk looked down and his expression became guarded as he admitted, “Look, I-I’m not good at this.” He wished he was. People like Sensei Lawrence made it seem so easy, like it came naturally to him. It was part of being an alpha, after all. But even when he tried practicing, it didn’t come naturally to Hawk. He wished he could be effortlessly suave, full of swag, someone who always said the right thing; and he certainly tried. He tried so hard.

The boy sitting across from him in the booth could see how uneasy this was starting to make him. Miguel watched the way his eyes were darting, how his hands were fidgeting. He had to wonder, if Hawk had asked him the same sort of question, would he have been anymore articulate? Probably not, that had been the whole reason why he’d tried making that video to win Sam back in the first place. Words weren’t easy sometimes. So, swallowing the mouthful of mozzarella he’d been chewing on, Miguel said, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Forget I brought it up.”

But if Hawk did that, he knew it would be a sign of failure. How much of a loser would he have been then, if he couldn’t just dish out a damn compliment? Looking across at Miguel, he said, “You aren’t afraid to put assholes in their place. You’re not a coward. You’re a brave guy. I like that.” He wanted to be able to say more. He would have liked to have been able to tell Miguel how important it was that he’d stood up for him against Kyler, because it was the first time any of his peers thought he was worth protecting. But he couldn’t get that out. His tongue felt like rubber just thinking about it. So he just downed the remainder of his beer, instead.

The words he had been able to get out seemed like they were enough for now, though. Miguel had a sincere smile on his mouth. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Hawk rolled back his shoulders to loosen them up. “Don’t mention it,” he said, reaching out for more chips. “I mean, literally, don’t. I got a rep, man.”

Once they finished eating their food and walked out to the parking lot, Miguel voiced a concern when he heard Hawk unlock his car. “You probably should wait a while longer before driving,” he pointed out, remembering all the PSAs about the danger of drinking and driving he’d been forced to watch at school while growing up. Hawk didn’t even have years of experience under his belt like Sensei did. 

“Why?” asked Hawk with a nonchalant shrug. “I only had one beer, I’m not drunk. I’ve never been drunk. What kind of light-weight do you take me for?” Between the two of them, it was Miguel who’d proven incapable of holding his liquor. Hawk was sure he could have drank at least two more glasses before he’d even get tipsy behind the wheel. Not that he was willing to prove that, at the moment.

Miguel crossed his arms and asked pragmatically, “Uh, could you pass a breathalyzer test right now, though?”

Point made, that hadn’t crossed Hawk’s mind. Could he pass it? That was a good question. Probably not ideal to risk getting pulled over. He could only imagine how it would go down if he ever told his parents he got slapped with a DUI. He would never hear the end of it, he’d be lucky if they didn’t end him. He already had a mall record, he didn’t need to start building up to an actual rap sheet yet. “Alright, so what do you want to do to kill time for, what? About half an hour?”

Miguel’s eyes gleamed with mischief all of a sudden. “I never said we couldn’t wait inside the car,” he said, and climbed into the back seat. Hawk blinked in confusion for a moment, before it settled in what Miguel was suggesting. Then a small smirk curled on the corner of his mouth, and he walked over to the driver’s side and followed suit.

Making out in the back of a car was something they’d both heard other people talk about. Sensei Lawrence in particular had elaborated on a handful of colorful stories about how he’d taken dates places to park and kiss. He made it sound glamorous. The reality was rather less idealized than it’d been made out to be. There was a lot of bumping of the knees and banging of the elbows while they tried to get in comfortable positions. It was alright, though. They managed.

They could feel the warmth of each other’s bodies as hands sought out the heat of exposed skin. Their movements weren’t frantic this time. It was less demanding, more affectionate. They were getting more comfortable with each other now, more comfortable with this. Hawk’s arms touched Miguel’s shoulders before he pressed his lips against his own. Miguel could both smell and taste the faint lingering alcohol on him in those shallow breaths in the breaks between the kisses.

Then Hawk was moving away from his mouth. A gasp hitched in the back of Miguel’s throat as he felt Hawk suddenly kissing down his neck; a hand reached around to run through his hair, while the other rested on his collarbone. Miguel closed his eyes and let him continue, letting him know how good it felt by how rapid his breathing became.

It made Miguel get adventurous again. Not wanting to be completely passive, he reached his hands under Hawk’s hoodie and, remembering what he’d been told before, he kept his touch firm as he ran the flats of his hands around Hawk’s ribcage and up his back. He imagined his fingers must have been touching the raptor that had been inked there. That got Hawk to make some interesting noises against his neck before he whispered his name near his ear. “Miguel….”

Miguel tugged him in a bit closer, whispering his name back. “Eli.”

He felt the skin under his wandering hands tense at that. It got the boy busily marking his neck to stop and glance at him. He looked almost hurt. “Hawk,” he corrected.

Slipping his hands back out from under his hoodie, Miguel tried to fix his faux pas. “Hawk,” he repeated, holding Hawk’s jaw before bringing their mouths back together for another kiss. When the contact broke, Miguel leaned back a bit and stared into Hawk’s eyes. He recalled reading somewhere that at moments like these, someone could see the real person in their eyes, when their guard was most lowered. He didn’t know if that was really true or not, but he did remember how mesmerized he’d felt when he had looked into Sam’s eyes during their date. And he did feel a rush when he looked at Hawk’s now.

But after a few, long seconds Hawk tore them away and pulled back. “Don’t do that,” he told him.

“Do what?” asked Miguel, still a bit breathless.

“That, staring at me all weird,” explained Hawk, furrowing his brows, his fingers fumbling with the edge of the seat.

Was Hawk actually going to get all flustered over something like that? Miguel grinned and gently nudged him with his elbow. “What? Haven’t you heard that the eyes are the body’s window into the soul?” 

Hawk snorted but kept his eyes down. He didn’t know whether it was because he was autistic or because a lifetime of others staring had left him sensitive, but he didn’t understand the fascination people had with looking into each others eyes for so long. What did they expect to find in there? “That sounds like some Hallmark card horseshit to me.” 

Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes, Miguel gave his shoulder a little shove but said, "Alright, I won’t stare at you. But you also gotta take the negging down a notch. Deal?”

“What? I don’t neg,” protested Hawk, looking back up.

Now it was Miguel’s turn to snort back a laugh. He raised one eyebrow and said simply in reply, “Bruh.”

“Alright, so I neg a bit,” Hawk conceded, chuckling under his breath. Wasn’t that what alphas were supposed to do? Wrapping his arm around Miguel’s shoulders warmly, pulling him in closer, he then countered, “But hey, you give as good as you get.”


	14. Aerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aerie: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. A raptor nest built at a high altitude, usually on a cliff ledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

“Alright, time for the final inspection.” Johnny Lawrence stepped into the dojo bathroom, while Hawk stood just the side, hands behind his back like he was at attention. His eyes first did an initial sweep of the room, noting how clean the floor was; getting the new mop had been a wise investment, the tiles actually looked polished now. Johnny saw that the trashcan had been emptied and the bag replaced. The toilet paper had been restocked one last time. The sink had been thoroughly wiped down.

He then walked over and inspected the toilet next, opening and closing the lid to check that both sides had been cleaned again. Then he did the same thing with the toilet seat. Next he lifted the tank lid and looked inside there, too, to make sure his student didn’t skimp at wiping the inside of it. Finally he inspected the interior of the bowl itself. He had to give the kid credit, the toilet was looking better than it ever had since he’d opened the dojo. “Damn, you even managed to get the shit-ring scrubbed off. Not bad,” he commented with mild admiration.

It was probably the nicest compliment he’d given to Hawk in weeks. “Yes, Sensei,” said Hawk, not knowing how else to respond to a comment like that.

Turning around to look at him, Sensei Lawrence nodded and said, “Okay, looks fine. You can go now.” And, just like that, Hawk’s punishment had concluded. He was a free man. He felt a wave of relief overcome him at hearing that.

Giving a bow, Hawk repeated, “Yes, Sensei,” and then immediately hurried out of the bathroom, grabbing his backpack from where he’d set it down just outside. He never wanted to see another toilet again except for when he himself needed to use it. Maybe it really was worth cutting back on calling the newbies nicknames, just to avoid having a repeat of the humiliation he’d suffered over the previous two weeks.

Things still felt weird in the dojo, though, knowing that Sensei Lawrence knew about what was going on between him and Miguel. But at least he hadn’t said anything about it yet. No off-color comments, no ridiculing or demeaning jokes. Maybe that was a ridiculously low bar to set for Sensei, but Hawk didn’t care. Because at least that meant Sensei wasn’t making fun of him. Hawk would certainly take that, low bar or no.

Miguel was standing there waiting for him in the main area of the dojo, leaning against the wall with the giant logo by the door. When Hawk spotted the way Miguel was using the camera on his phone as a mirror to look himself over, how he was running his fingers over the reddish mark on the side of his neck, he just chuckled. “Geez, you’re still obsessing over that hickey?” 

“Do you have any idea how much teasing my Ya-Ya gave me for it yesterday?” retorted Miguel in an exasperated tone, turning off his phone while they walked outside. His grandmother’s teasing had been relentless, she still had some jokes to make about it that morning while he ate his cereal. But Miguel suspected that, underneath the teasing, she was probably excited for him, because that must have meant things were going well for him. She hadn’t liked seeing him all mopey after Sam dumped him anymore than his mother had. “I think she cared more about the story behind it than she did the dinner with Mom’s boyfriend.”

Hawk looked amused by that revelation. “So what, did you tell her the truth? That you got necked in the back of a Sentra in an Applebee’s parking lot? Could’ve been worse, man. Imagine if we went all the way and that’s where you cashed in your v-card, and you had to admit _that_ to her.”

“Gross, dude, I’m not gonna talk about something like that with my grandma!” exclaimed Miguel, his features twisting in reflexive disgust, and he gave Hawk’s back a shove in revulsion at the mere thought.

“I know, a real boner-killer, right?” laughed Hawk, catching his footing and unlocking his car with the clicker. They both tossed their bags in the back seat.

Assuming a boastful air, squaring his shoulders back a bit, Miguel got into the passenger side and retorted impetuously, “Besides, what makes you think I still even have a v-card, huh?” He didn’t know why he felt the need to get defensive over something stupid like that. It was just something about the needling way Hawk had said it, he supposed.

Eyebrows raising on his forehead, Hawk looked genuinely surprised by what he’d said. He believed him, Miguel realized. Hooking his seatbelt and starting the car, Hawk smiled and replied, “No way, really? With who? Sam?”

Miguel regretted his moment of macho posturing. It wouldn’t be right to spread that kind of rumor, would it? Especially after everything Sam had went through following her messy breakup with Kyler. Girls’ reputations in that department were on a completely different playing field than guys’ in the same position. They had a lot more to lose. Even if he was just messing around, it didn’t feel right to give Hawk the impression that something happened between him and Sam that really hadn’t. Sam may have hated him, but Miguel felt no impulse to hurt her like that. So he shook his head and admitted, “Nah, I was just bullshitting. We didn’t do anything.”

“Sucks for you,” said Hawk simply, driving out of the strip mall parking lot.

Giving him a look, Miguel immediately got the attention off his own intimate life by throwing the ball in Hawk’s court. “Well, what about _you_?” he asked, his tone a touch prickly now that he’d gone and embarrassed himself over nothing. “Did you and Moon ever…?”

An uneasy expression hung over Hawk’s face, and he got silent for a minute before also confessing, “No.” He and Miguel gave one another a quiet glance, and a nonverbal exchange occurred, both agreeing to drop the topic for now.

As they drove down the road, Miguel mercifully changed the subject, saying to Hawk, “I forgot to tell you earlier, but you won’t believe what I did last night after Mom’s boyfriend left.”

“Oh yeah? What?” asked Hawk, eyes on the road.

“I went over to Sensei’s apartment and helped him set up his new smartphone.” Miguel could still hardly believe it, if he hadn’t been there to witness it for himself.

Hawk’s eyes got wide. “Get out of here, Sensei’s got a smartphone now? About time he woke up to the 21st century.” He had to give Sensei Lawrence some credit where it was due, between this and getting his laptop, the guy was finally getting with the times. Or at least a little closer to the times. That was good, because Sensei’s big technology blindspot sometimes made Hawk feel like he was going to have an aneurysm.

“Not only that,” followed up Miguel as he reached over to adjust the air-conditioning duct, “but I also helped him set up a profile on a dating app, too. I told him that’s how Mom met Graham, and he seemed pretty interested in trying out his luck with it. He spent a lot of time last night swiping.” Miguel hoped Sensei Lawrence’s dating life turned out as lucky as his mom’s had lately. He might have been a bit rough around the edges, but Sensei was a cool guy and deserved somebody nice, too. He didn’t like the thought of Sensei always being alone, either at his apartment or the dojo, it wasn’t good for him.

Hawk nodded, and his brows furrowed the slightest. “Good. Maybe if Sensei gets laid, things will go back to normal in the dojo.”

That made the corners of Miguel’s mouth faintly frown. “What do you mean?” he asked, looking beside him at Hawk.

With a shrug of his shoulder, Hawk answered, “You know, Sensei’s been really off lately, with kicking Sensei Kreese out and about this whole thing about showing mercy sometimes. It’s like, ever since the Tournament, Sensei’s had this bug up his ass. Things seemed okay when Sensei Kreese was around, but now he’s all weird again.”

“He seems fine to me,” argued Miguel, defensiveness instinctively starting to stir inside him. Sensei Lawrence may have changed some things around at Cobra Kai, but that was just part of learning how to become an adaptive fighter. He’d said so himself. When something wasn’t working, it had to change, or else. Why was Hawk having such an issue with that? “I don’t see what the problem is.”

Shaking his head, Hawk responded, “Of course you’d say that.”

“What’s_ that_ supposed to mean?” demanded Miguel, his voice suddenly getting terse.

Hawk gave him a quick glance before turning his attention back on the road. “I mean, you just seem to get it, whatever it is Sensei’s trying to teach,” he tried to explain. He wasn’t looking for an argument. “Like with this showing mercy thing. Is that why you held back at Coyote Creek? Did you just take pity on me?” Hawk had expected Miguel to finish the fight, and he would have been fine if he’d carried through with it. Because that’s what Sensei Kreese had taught them. Because that’s what happened to losers. But he couldn’t abide being an object of pity, because that meant he was weak.

Loosening up again, Miguel shook his head this time. It hadn’t been about pity. “No, man, it had nothing to do with that.”

“Then why didn’t you finish the fight?” asked Hawk pointedly, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter in his hands.

Miguel ran a hand through his hair and looked down, struggling for a moment to come up with a coherent answer to explain his behavior at Coyote Creek. He didn’t really have a good one. Sensei Kreese had given him the order, but when he looked back at Hawk, he just couldn’t do it. He hadn’t been thinking about it at the time. He’d just acted. Or didn’t act, in this case. All he could think to say was, “Do you really gotta ask?”

Hawk shot him another look. Miguel wondered if he really understood what he was trying to convey. He didn’t say. Instead, things stayed quiet in the car for the remainder of the ride.

When they got to Miguel’s apartment, there was still plenty of time to kill before the dinner Hawk had been invited to would be ready. It would be a few more hours before Carmen was set to come back from work at the hospital. Rosa, meanwhile, already had preparations going in the kitchen when the two boys walked in. Her eyes followed them as Miguel grabbed them each a soda from the fridge. She couldn’t help but chuckle at bit at seeing Hawk’s hair.

The dish she was making wouldn’t take long to prepare. She’d already cooked the shrimp in the coconut milk. She just had to chop the tomatoes, onions, and bell pepper, then mix in the juices from the limes, tomatoes, and an orange. Toss it all together with some cilantro into the big mixing bowl. The fridge would take care of the rest. Later she would peel, chop, and fry the plantains for the patacones she planned on serving it with. The whole thing would be ready by the time Carmen got home.

Rosa had already staked her claim to the television and had it set to a soccer match, which she watched from where she was food prepping in the kitchen, so she could listen while she chopped the vegetables. Lounging on the couch with Hawk, Miguel said, “Sorry, can’t change the channel till the game’s over. Ya-Ya’s ride-or-die for Team Ecuador. And they’re playing against Chile, so it’s pretty serious. I mean, soccer’s serious business anyway. Doesn’t matter who wins, somewhere today there’s gonna be a riot. Soccer fans are crazy.”

Miguel became fairly engrossed in the game himself. He considered himself only more of a casual fan, while his Ya-Ya was a straight-up fanatic. He’d watch it if it was on. Maybe he would have become more invested in the sport if he’d played it himself growing up. But his asthma had put a stop to that when he’d tried it out as a kid at the local park in Riverside.

Hawk tried to pay attention, but two things were holding him back: 1) apart from karate, he didn’t care about sports, he never had; and 2) the whole game was being broadcast in Spanish, which Hawk knew maybe twenty words of altogether. So while Miguel got invested, leaning forward on the couch with an earnest expression creeping on his face, Hawk spent most of the time on his phone, looking up occasionally when Rosa would suddenly say something at the television after some player screwed up a move or the ref made a bullshit call.

“_The referee is an idiot_,” said Rosa in Spanish with a shake of her head, chopping the cilantro against the cutting board with the kitchen knife in her grip. “_That, or he’s been paid off by the Chileans. This game is rigged._”

Miguel looked at Hawk and grinned. “Soccer’s actually pretty fun to watch once you know the game.”

Hawk arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t our team here suck, though?” He remembered hearing something about that a couple times, through peer osmosis in school whenever the World Cup happened. Good, he could at least show Miguel he wasn’t completely in the dark about this subject. Guys were supposed to at least know _something_ about sports, right?

“Oh yeah, the American men’s team sucks hard,” said Miguel with a little laugh. “They suck like they’re trying to rupture a lung. But our women’s team rocks.” His enthusiasm proved infectious, and Hawk cracked a smile. Putting his phone back down, he put a little more effort into paying some attention to the game. He didn’t need to speak the language to watch a ball get kicked around a field, after all. It wasn’t so bad to watch. Chile ended up beating Ecuador 2-1. Miguel’s grandmother wasn’t happy about that.

When Carmen got home, they all sat down to eat at the dinner table. While they ate, Miguel listened as his mother opened with general questions one might have expected from the situation: who were Hawk’s parents, what did they do, what were some of his interests outside of karate, etc. His mom had a way of phrasing questions so she didn’t sound like she was prying. She was always making sure the people around her were comfortable; it must’ve been the nurse in her. So Miguel had to give her credit, it was actually just a dinner, just like she said, not an interrogation.

As far as the food itself, ceviche de camarón and patacones were new to Hawk’s palate. But he’d forgotten to tell Miguel about his food intolerance to cilantro. At first he just tried to power through it, but the bite he took of the ceviche that had a big piece of it almost made him gag. Cilantro overpowered everything else it touched and made the food taste like dish soap; or, at least, what he imagined dish soap tasted like. Hawk then tried to discreetly pick off the bits of the herb that were sticking to the shrimp with his fork. Without it, the ceviche tasted great.

Other than that, the dinner went well. He’d met Miguel’s mother before, he knew from that and the way Miguel always talked about her that she was a nice woman. He could see why Miguel had sounded so defensive of her when he’d told him about the dinner with his mom’s boyfriend the previous night, and why Miguel hoped he’d treat her good. All mothers were the same, the ones who cared. His mom. Miguel’s mom. Demetri’s mom. Deep down, they were all the same.

That got Hawk thinking, as he sat there eating. His mind drifted to Moon again before he could reel it back in. He didn’t even get to meet Moon’s mother. Moon hadn’t intentionally kept him away, like Sam did with Miguel, a formal meeting had just never been set up. Hawk hadn’t been worried about it then. He’d assumed they’d have plenty of time for him to meet Moon’s mom. Maybe that’s what his English teacher had meant by _hubris_. He was glad he avoided that mistake this time.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Miguel’s mom took a sip of her drink and asked him, “And you said it was Miguel who introduced you to Cobra Kai?”

“Yeah,” he answered, trying to inconspicuously scrape another shrimp clean of cilantro with his fork. “If he didn’t convince me to join, I don’t even know what I’d be doing right now.” That was a lie. Hawk knew exactly what he’d be doing. He’d be sitting at home, alone in his room, either playing video games or watching some geeky show, being too scared to go out and socialize, because he would have had no friends. Without Miguel, he never would have joined Cobra Kai, so in a way, without Miguel, he never would have become Hawk. He still would’ve been pathetic, dweeby Eli.

“_Ask him if he does that crazy hairdo himself_,” said Rosa to her grandson with a nudge, eyeing Hawk’s spiky red hair as she ate another forkful of shrimp ceviche.

Miguel swallowed his mouthful of fried plantain and looked beside him to tell Hawk, “Ya-Ya wants to know if you style your mohawk yourself. You do, right?”

Hawk nodded. “First thing, every morning,” he boasted. Then he amended, “Well, I mean, after I get dressed and brush my teeth and everything.”

For a moment, Miguel was worried that his grandmother might tease Hawk about it, judging by the grin on her face and her previous comments about the subject, which would force him to lie. But instead she said, “_Tell him that’s very impressive. He’s good at it. He should consider being a stylist._” Miguel smiled and repeated what she said in English. He swore it made Hawk blush as he thanked her for the compliment; there was none of his usual cocky attitude that he displayed whenever someone complimented his mohawk.

All in all, Miguel considered the dinner a success. He didn’t know why he’d been so worried about it. Maybe he’d fretted over whether or not he was going to feel embarrassed by his mother or grandmother, or whether they would suddenly dislike Hawk, or whether the food would be good, or any hundreds other things that his nerve-wracking brain liked to play in his head if he gave it the slightest chance. Now he just felt silly. He’d never learn, would he?

“Thanks again for inviting me over, Miss Diaz,” said Hawk, giving Miguel’s mother a sincere smile. This had been really nice.

“It’s our pleasure. You’re welcome anytime,” Carmen assured him. Eyeing his bowl, the corner of her mouth curled in a knowing grin and she added, “And next time, we’ll keep the cilantro on the side.”


	15. Unsummed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsummed: adjective  
Falconry.  
1\. Used in reference to a raptor that has not fully gained a set of adult feathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

The next evening, it was Miguel’s turn to be invited over to eat at the Moskowitzes’ home. They had a really nice house, living in Encino. Certainly more spacious than his apartment. But they decorated it with a fairly simple touch, nothing too flashy that would scream to others about their status, and they kept things looking nice. Not much clutter to be found anywhere that he could see. And Miguel doubted that was only on account of him visiting. They were probably just really big on keeping things clean and orderly.

During dinner, Miguel had went through the same round of questions Hawk had the previous night. He told them about his mom and grandma, how his mom was a nurse, where they lived in Reseda, which church they went to when they did actually go, what his favorite subjects were in school, some of his favorite things about Cobra Kai, and other such concerns.

Throughout the entire dinner, Hawk had looked visibly tense and uncomfortable. Miguel imagined he must’ve also been worried, as he had been, that his family was going to end up embarrassing him somehow. The Moskowitzes were total helicopter parents, after all, so Miguel supposed that worry wasn’t entirely unfounded. So far they hadn’t said anything outrageous, though. But Hawk still barely said anything as he picked at the lamb-shoulder and sour plums his mother had made for them.

“Well, I would really love to meet your mother, Miguel,” commented Ruth Moskowitz while she started to serve them all dessert, a chocolate babka. Miguel accepted the plate with the cake she handed him, along with a fresh fork. “She sounds like a lovely woman. If I write down our numbers, would you give them to her?”

Miguel nodded, swallowing his bite of babka; the rich chocolate and streusel topping on it were delicious. “Sure, no problem. I’m sure she’d really like to meet you guys, too.” It would be nice if his mom could get some more friends. Between raising him, her hectic work schedule, and now her new dating life, she didn’t have many people she could just go get a coffee with or something like that.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just text their numbers to you later,” said Hawk. 

His mom walked around to set down plates for him and his father, and she touched his shoulder on the way back to her seat. “That works, too,” she said, sitting down. “Just make sure you don’t forget. And, Miguel, if you’d like, I could pack some leftovers for you to take back to your mom and grandmother.”

“Sounds great, thank you,” he replied with a smile.

Miguel thought Hawk’s mom was a very warm person. She reminded him a lot of his own. Mrs. Moskowitz had kept asking him if he wanted more to eat, she always made sure his juice glass was full, asking him if there was anything else they could get him. She’d talked about how happy she was to meet all of Hawk’s new karate friends from Cobra Kai, back when Miguel had first come over to their house with the others. She sounded really relieved, the way she went on about it. All of it made Hawk shrink into his shoulders a bit.

“I’m still waiting on Eli here to introduce us to Sensei Lawrence,” said Simon Moskowitz, pouring himself a glass of milk from the fridge. “I think it’s been long overdue to meet the man who’s responsible for my son’s haircut.” He said it in a joking way that almost made Miguel chuckle under his breath, but Hawk’s face pinched at hearing him say it. 

That made Miguel wonder why Hawk hadn’t introduced them to Sensei yet. But then he remembered what Hawk had told him that night in the dojo, about how his parents had found Sensei Lawrence’s rap sheet online, and how they had almost pulled Hawk from Cobra Kai over what they’d read. Maybe Hawk was worried Sensei would say or do something that would legitimize his mom and dad’s misgivings about him, and then they really would take him out of Cobra Kai. That would suck. Miguel didn’t want to see that happen. Sensei would really need to be on his best behavior if he ever met the Moskowitzes.

“I told you I’d ask him about it later, Dad,” Hawk replied to his father.

His dad just shook his head, sitting back down at the table. “It’s always ‘later’ with you.”

Hawk’s father was the sort of normal, down-to-Earth dad that Miguel had always imagined when he daydreamed about how the average father would be; albeit in this case, he was also an overprotective one who followed his sixteen-year-old son’s friends on Instagram so he could keep an eye on things. But even with that, Miguel thought that Hawk had lucked out in the dad lottery.

Sitting there, talking with him, it made Miguel think about his own father. Maybe that was too nice a word. His biological father? Still sounded too positive. The male parent? Yeah, his male parent. Of course, when he was growing up, Miguel had been curious about him, especially during Father’s Day activities at school, when teachers would have the kids craft their fathers little gifts or write papers on them. Miguel didn’t remember much about his, or anything really if he was being honest. His mom didn’t want to talk about him much, and he’d learned early on to stop asking, because obviously the subject was sore for her.

Then it made Miguel think of Sensei Lawrence. He and Mr. Moskowitz didn’t seem to have much in common, either in interests or in temperament. They may as well have come from two different planets. Just from these brief interactions, Miguel couldn’t imagine Mr. Moskowitz ever getting into a fist-fight over anything, from the way he talked. He had trouble imagining Mr. Moskowitz even being the type of man to raise his voice. He seemed more like the bookish sort. Probably where Eli had gotten it. 

Not that there was anything wrong with that. But it made Miguel ponder over how shocked Mr. Moskowitz must have been when Eli changed into Hawk, and why it was probably the biggest reason he was so eager to meet the man who’d transformed his son into that.

“I think you guys will like Sensei Lawrence. He actually lives across from me at our apartment complex, so I see a lot of him. Don’t worry, he’s a great man,” Miguel chimed in. Hawk kept his eyes on his plate, poking at the babka with his fork. So Miguel quickly changed the subject. “Hey, can I use your bathroom?” he asked, since he’d gotten a few glasses of juice in him.

“Of course, the main one is just down the hallway,” said Hawk’s father, pointing down that direction. 

On the way back from using the bathroom, Miguel stopped in the hallway to take a quick look at the framed pictures the Moskowitzes had set out on the table there. One was of Mr. and Mrs. Moskowitz’s wedding. The other two were pictures of Eli; pre-Hawk Eli. Miguel figured the first one must’ve been from his Bar Mitzvah or something, since he was wearing a kippah and tallit. The other was a school photo dated from the previous year. Miguel could hardly believe that’s what Hawk looked like just a few months ago.

After dessert, they went into Hawk’s room. He linked his phone to an external speaker and combed through an 80s playlist so they’d have music to listen to. Miguel had only been in his room once before, when he and the other Cobras had come to Hawk’s house to watch _Over The Top_. It looked like he kept it pretty tidy; his bed was made, there were no clothes spread over the floor or other random junk cluttering it up. Probably a habit his parents had ingrained into him.

While Hawk set up the music, Miguel walked over to peek at his bookshelf, for curiosity’s sake. He had it mostly filled with books about computer coding, biographies, astronomy, and other non-fiction, with a few Young Adult novels here and there. “Never seen someone organize their books by color before,” remarked Miguel, strolling over to plop himself on the bed. The sheets rustled oddly under the covers.

Hawk felt a stirring of self-consciousness. Was it weird to do something like that? “I just like the way it looks,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Miguel with a nonchalant shrug.

“It’s got a nice aesthetic,” Miguel agreed, sitting back up. “Hey, put on some Alice Cooper.” 

Hawk did so before walking over and sitting next to Miguel on the bed. Then he scooted a little closer, until their knees were touching, their bodies warm next to each other. When Hawk glanced up at Miguel, his lips had parted. Through the rise and fall of his chest, Hawk could tell his breath had started to quicken just the slightest, and he was looking at him expectantly. Hawk could take a guess what that meant. He parted his own lips and leaned over to close the space between them.

Before any contact could be made, however, there came a sudden loud knock on the door. Both Hawk and Miguel looked across the room at it as the knob turned. Simon Moskowitz opened it and took a step inside. Giving a knowing look at his son, he pushed the door in all the way and told him, “Keep the door open,” before walking back down the hallway. Hawk wanted to die. He wanted to die right where he sat, he was so embarrassed. Miguel, however, just tried to hide a grin. Poorly. 

Later that night, after he drove Miguel home, after he’d showered and changed into his pajamas, Hawk closed the door to his room, took his laptop and climbed into his bed. He opened Google in a new tab, and just sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the screen, his thumbs twiddling while he mulled over his racing thoughts. How to go about this, he wondered? Hawk then reached over and grabbed his phone and earbuds from his nightstand, picking a favorite song to play on repeat so he could get himself focused for the task at hand.

He thought back to the previous day, when both he and Miguel admitted that neither of them ever got all the way to home plate with their respective exes. That must’ve meant that neither of them had any real experience in that department. And they were both each other’s first relationships with another guy. So Hawk could only wonder what would happen down the road if making out moved on to something more. Just what _would_ happen then?

Back when he was dating Moon, he’d worried about the same thing, but at least he’d had a pretty good clue about the mechanics of things, if not the execution. He’d seen enough media to have a basic idea. Bert had also lent him a magazine once, for research purposes. At least he knew he wouldn’t look like a complete dork if things had ever gotten super-serious with her. 

But what about with Miguel? Hawk didn’t expect anything to happen anytime soon, but he also didn’t want to be caught unawares in the heat of the moment if it ever did happen. Nothing would be a bigger mood-killer than fumbling around like a jackass who didn’t know what he was doing. What kind of pussy would he look like then? He had to plan ahead. He had to be an alpha; alphas were sure of themselves at all times, that’s what Sensei Lawrence had taught them.

Off the top of his head, Hawk didn’t know where to turn for the kind of information he needed. Sex education at school had only talked about things like anatomy, pregnancy, birth control, STIs, and the importance of consent and wearing a condom. But that was about the extent of it. He supposed he could go to his parents and ask, but what would they possibly know about this sort of thing? And no way in hell would he go ask Sensei about it; like he would have any expertise on this subject anyways. So Hawk figured the best place to turn for his questions would be the Internet.

Hawk stared at the Google main page and ran his hands through his still-damp undercut a few times, racking his brain to try and think about how he should search for the answers to his questions. He didn’t want to just type in the obvious thing and risk getting results that were super explicit. What if his parents found out, after all? He really didn’t want to admit to himself that he was lost, in completely over his head. Defeat did not exist.

Maybe it would be safer if he read about it, rather than look up anything visual. Ease into it? Yeah, that would work. It wasn’t unlike the time he’d been thirteen and peeked at one of his mother’s romance novels, just to see what the fuss was about. Same thing, really. Safest route to start with. Nobody would have to know.

And thankfully the Internet was full of free original fiction. He’d grown up reading fanfic of his favorite sci-fi shows; although nothing above a teen rating, since it embarrassed that mousey wuss Eli too much to click on anything more risqué than that. So Hawk had an idea of how to find what he needed. All he had to do was type in a search, filter some results, and he suddenly had terabytes worth of information at his fingertips. 

He chose the first result. “Holy shit,” he muttered as the website offered him dozens of different genres and options. It was more than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t realize this was a popular subject. With a shrug, he picked one at random, rolling his eyes when it gave him a warning that only people eighteen-years and older were allowed to click through. With a press of the mousepad, he pushed right through that pop-up. 

Hawk gave a cursory glance through the story, making liberal use of the command+f shortcut. His brow furrowed. He tried another story. Then another. Something seemed off. All of this shit was pretty schmaltzy. Almost like something straight out of chick lit (or so he’d heard), but with dudes. Sissy stuff. Weird. So he filtered the results even more, searching for “alpha males.” What he got was certainly something.

His fingers began fumbling in his lap again as he kept reading, scene after scene. The more he read, the worse the stimming got, because the things he was reading went beyond embarrassing. Mortifying, really. Was this really how things were supposed to happen? He knew fiction embellished a few details, which would explain the obsession with physique and how swol all these dudes were described as being, but seeing some of the same stuff written over and over again made him think there had to be at least some truth to what the authors were describing.

Wouldn’t something like that hurt? A lot? Why would anyone ever get teeth involved? Couldn’t those people be nice and use a hand towel or something? Weren’t people supposed to wash their hands before doing something like that? Was that even anatomically possible? Why would that guy suddenly become gay if he liked being with chicks before? Did everyone have to be so unpleasant with each other? If Miguel ever called him any of the names Hawk was reading, especially in such an intimate setting, he’d punch him in the face; and Miguel would be in the right to punch his if he did the same.

Hawk tore his eyes away from the screen. He couldn’t take reading anymore. His skin felt hot, and he was sure he was as red as a beetroot by now. But not for the reason he imagined he would be when he set off on this endeavor. He hid his face in his hands for a few minutes and took a few calming breaths. Why did he feel so uncomfortable, all of a sudden? Why did he feel so gross?

That was when Hawk noticed a detail he had previously missed. He scrolled up and down the stories, clicking on the authors’ profiles. “What the hell, all of them are chicks?” He double-checked, but sure enough, it looked like all of the authors writing those stories of guys getting it on with guys were women. Well, that explained a few things, at least. But not everything. Just how much of that stuff was realistic? How was he supposed to know?

It left Hawk in a deep state of confusion. Then the confusion morphed into something else. Self-consciousness? Shame? Maybe even a little revulsion? He couldn’t begin to think of why he was feeling all of those things. 

He exited out of all the tabs, cleared his search history, and slammed the lid of his laptop down. A quick glance at his alarm clock showed it was past 1:00AM. The whole night had been completely wasted on this, he thought. He felt like such a fucking idiot. The idea had been stupid to begin with. Next time he’d just slip Bert a ten and tell him to get him another magazine. 

Putting his laptop away, Hawk walked over and flicked the lights off before reaching into his nightstand drawer and pulling out his bathroom alarm. He held it in the tight grip of his hand for a couple silent minutes, the features on his face going cold. If he felt gross before, he felt disgusted with himself now. With a grunt of frustration, Hawk chucked the alarm across his room, where it clanked against the dresser before falling to the wood floor.

He’d really missed the forest for the trees, hadn't he? That was what that saying meant, right? Screw going all the way with someone, whether they were a girl like Moon or a guy like Miguel. He couldn’t even sleep in the same bed with another person. He had never been able to. Not even with Demetri during their sleepovers growing up; Demetri’s mom had always blown up the air mattress for him. 

And at the rate things were going, Hawk was starting to get worried he’d never be able to share a bed with someone else like his parents did with each other. Because nothing ever seemed to fix the problem. Sure, it might go away for a couple months, but it always came back. The doctor kept saying that eventually it would go away on its own. But when the hell would that be? Next year? Five years from now? Never? Even if they were being completely chaste, who in their right mind would ever want to be in the same bed as him, even with the alarm?

Letting out a huff of annoyance, Hawk walked over and picked up his bathroom alarm from the floor. At least he hadn’t broken it. He clipped it onto his pajamas and climbed into bed. Laying there, he ran his hands down his face again and took another deep, fuming breath. Hawk curled on his side, pulling up his covers, and muttered angrily to himself, “Just wait until Miguel finds out what a freak you are.”


	16. Freeloft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeloft: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. To keep a raptor in its enclosure or pen without having it tethered or secured in any way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

A couple days later, Miguel was busy helping his mother and Ya-Ya bring in the groceries from their car after they returned from shopping at the local Wal-Mart, when he noticed Sensei Lawrence walking out of his apartment to take his trash to the complex’s garbage dumpsters. Quickly setting down the last couple of plastic bags inside the door that he had been carrying in his hands, Miguel sprinted over to where his instructor was throwing the first garbage bag in the dumpster, calling out, “Hey, Sensei! Can I ask a question?”

“Yeah, but make it fast,” said Johnny, tossing the second garbage bag in his hand into the main dumpster. “I got somewhere to be pretty soon, so I don’t got a lot of time to lallygag.” The third bag had the accumulated collection of Coors bottles that had been piling up in his apartment. But Johnny was trying to get better about recycling them, a fact Miguel noticed with a small smile as he watched him dump the bottles in the blue bin.

“Uh, I was hoping actually to ask you about Sensei Kreese,” said Miguel, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. His nose crinkled at the stench coming from the dumpsters. God, was it already that bad, so far away from garbage pickup? He’d prefer not to have to linger there long, either.

Sensei Lawrence looked over his shoulder at him, his blond brows knitting at the bridge of his nose. Shutting the blue bin a bit too loudly after he dumped the last of the bottles, he said dismissively, “What, this again?”

“I’m sorry, I know, you told me to trust you,” responded Miguel, following behind Sensei Lawrence when the man turned around to walk back towards his apartment. “And I _do_ trust you. And I don’t mean to pry. But me and a couple of the guys at the dojo were still wondering just what exactly happened.” That was only a half-truth. There were no “other guys,” and Miguel himself wasn’t even too obsessed with figuring out what transpired between the two Senseis of Cobra Kai. To him, it didn’t matter too much. If Sensei was okay with it, then he was okay with it. 

But Miguel knew it was bothering Hawk. And Hawk was letting that cloud his judgment of both Sensei Lawrence and the new lessons he was trying to teach the class. If Miguel thought he could help break that tension before it risked escalating, he would. He didn’t want to see Hawk get stuck like cement, too.

Johnny sighed and ran a hand down his face in what looked like aggravation. “You’re not gonna stop whining about it unless I tell you something, are you?” Miguel would’ve argued that this could hardly be classified as “whining,” but he knew the question had been rhetorical and Sensei wasn’t looking for backtalk. When he got to his apartment door, Johnny stopped and turned around to look at him. “Listen, Sensei Kreese went through some shit back in the day, alright? He told you guys about Vietnam?”

“Yes, Sensei,” answered Miguel, shifting on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, well, he brought some shit back with him from there. The only thing you need to know is that it means he doesn’t tolerate losing. To him, second place is for losers, and he didn’t tolerate losers in his dojo. But I don’t see things that way. And it’s _my_ dojo, so I make the rules. He wouldn’t listen, so he had to leave.” Sensei Lawrence pulled his keys out of his back pocket and looked for the one to open the door, considering his speech completed.

But Miguel was still left wondering the big question. Biting down on his lip for a second, he asked, “So he’s probably never coming back, huh?”

Another sigh from his Sensei. “Probably not,” answered Johnny, his voice tinged with finality, holding his house key between his fingers. “I wished…I _wanted_ things to be different. But Sensei Kreese is a sick man, alright? Given the chance, he’ll chew you up and spit you out before you even realize what he’s done to you…. And I can’t let a man like that stay around you kids.” He sounded like he had to choke the last words out. He then looked over his shoulder again at Miguel and asked, “There, that good enough? ‘Cause I gotta get ready for a date here soon.”

Miguel nodded. “Yes, Sensei,” he said. “Thanks for telling me. And good luck on your date.” It all sounded very personal to Sensei Lawrence, so personal that Miguel regretted prying. He should’ve just left it alone. It wouldn’t really be his place to repeat this stuff to Hawk, would it? Besides, Hawk had respected Sensei Kreese, he probably wouldn’t want to hear anything negative about him. So Miguel let Sensei Lawrence go back inside his apartment without saying anything more, and decided then and there to keep this new information to himself.

Miguel strolled across the walkway to his own apartment. His mother and Ya-Ya had already finished putting away the groceries, making Miguel feel a slight pang of guilt that he’d rushed off before helping them do that, especially since his Ya-Ya’s arthritis had flared up again recently. He knew she wouldn’t say anything to him about it, but he honestly did want to get better about helping her with things when it got bad.

Walking over towards the living room, he pulled out his cellphone and checked Instagram. Only one update since the last time he checked at Wal-Mart: a picture Moon had posted of herself at a store downtown. Seeing Hawk’s ex-girlfriend made Miguel’s mind take a sharp left turn down an old familiar road. Yeah. More like a sharp left turn down Dead Man’s Curve, in the wet.

His thumb hovered over the search bar. He wanted to do it. That tiny, needling part in the back of his brain beckoned him to. Do it, that part of him said. Type in “Samantha LaRusso.” And Miguel almost did it. But then he thought back to how Aisha had called him out on that. He really didn’t want to be a creep. So he pulled his thumb away and exited out of the app, putting his phone away so he wouldn’t feel tempted.

His mom walked down the hallway and past him. She had gathered the laundry from the various hampers in their bedrooms and set the basket down on the table so she could retrieve the laundry card from her wallet. “Hey Mom, mind if I come help?” asked Miguel, stepping over to pick up the basket and bottle of detergent.

Carmen smiled, but also cocked an eyebrow suspiciously at his request. “Of course I don’t mind,” she said, grabbing the fabric softener before the two of them made their way to the door. “But I have to wonder if maybe you aren’t going to be asking me for a favor after this is done.”

Grinning, Miguel stepped outside and shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. But I was wondering about something, and maybe you can help.” He hesitated for a few seconds, walking with his mother to the laundry room, thinking about how he wanted to phrase things. “Is it…Is it normal to still think about your ex, even when you’re with someone else? Is that bad?”

His mom set the fabric softener down on top of the washer she selected for them. Miguel put down the laundry basket and detergent there, too. “Are things alright between you and Hawk?” she asked.

Miguel nodded. “Yeah, things are fine. That’s what’s getting to me. Nothing’s wrong, but sometimes I still catch myself thinking about Sam. I don’t mean to, it just sorta happens.”

Sometimes Sam would flood his mind again at the most random moments. Miguel would swear under oath and before God that he didn’t do it on purpose. The thoughts just popped in there, uninvited this time. It wasn’t like a couple weeks prior, when he was obsessing over it. Back then at least he got some enjoyment from thinking about Sam, but now it felt like those memories were crowding what should’ve been higher priorities. 

He just didn’t understand why he was like this. Why was he stuck on Sam? Why did nostalgia have to be so powerful?

Carmen opened the washing machine door, but before she started loading the laundry, she smiled again and reached out a hand to cup Miguel’s cheek. “It’s perfectly normal, Miggy. It’s not a bad thing to remember the good times you had with someone who was important to you, and to miss not only that, but also the way you felt with that person. It’s that part of yourself that you miss most.”

Hearing his mother say that reassured him, made him feel less guilty. Because it made sense. Miguel suspected there would always be some part of him that missed Sam, that would miss those fun times they had together, short as the whole relationship had been. But it made it a little easier now to live with himself knowing that was okay.

“Thanks, Mom,” he told her, and started helping her toss the laundry into the washing machine. After that was done, he took his phone out of his pocket again and and brought up his photos. Miguel scrolled through some memes he’d saved from Internet browsing the previous few nights. He thought they were pretty funny. Selecting one, he texted it to Hawk, hoping he might find it funny, too.

Aisha suggested hanging out at the beach that evening. Tory and Hawk showed up, but Miguel had already committed himself to going to see a movie with his mother, after she’d suggested it as a treat. That left Hawk outnumbered by the girls. But that wouldn’t be so bad, he figured. Besides, Miguel had been texting him funny memes off-and-on all day. So he tried to chill with Aisha and Tory, and sat down at a picnic table near the beach with the two of them when they decided they were hungry enough to eat.

Tory had went and retrieved them a menu from a nearby food cart. “Alright, so from word-of-mouth I know they got good corndog nuggets and onion rings, but one of my girlfriends swears their spicy wings are supposed to be pretty fantastic,” she pointed out to Aisha, scooting closer on the bench beside her to show her the pictures printed on the menu.

“Okay, but are they _actually _spicy or just European spicy?” asked Aisha for clarification, adjusting her glasses.

Tory laughed and gave her a nudge with her elbow, asking her back, “Do you trust me to know the difference?”

That got Aisha to giggle in return. “I guess not, right? Well, since we’re splitting three-ways, if everyone’s down for wings, we can test them out.” Her brown eyes turned to Hawk for his opinion.

Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, drumming the fingers of the other against the table, Hawk shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not that hungry, you guys choose,” he said. “I mean, I’ll still chip in, but I’m just gonna have one or two of whatever.”

The girls gave him a brief look from across the bench before Aisha glanced at Tory and said, “I’m cool with the wings if you wanna give them a shot.” The three of them pulled out some cash from their pockets, which Tory collected before going over to the food cart again to place a large order for them.

She came back carrying three cans of soda. Popping open the top of her Sprite, she took a sip and said to Aisha, “So you were telling me about Bro Code.”

“Oh right,” replied Aisha, setting her can of Coke down. “First of all, let me just say for the record that pretty much everything I’ve come to learn about Bro Code since joining Cobra Kai was against my will. You won’t believe what guys will say around you when you’re the only girl on the team. They really let their guards down. I could seriously write a book as a heads-up for other girls at this point, let all the guys’ secrets out of the bag.”

“Tell me about it, it’s like that with the guys I work with, too,” remarked Tory. Then she arched an eyebrow and gave Aisha a challenge. “So, what’s the most outrageous thing they told you?”

The corners of Aisha’s mouth curled, dimpling her round cheeks. “Alright, before we get our food, I’ll ask: have you ever heard of the One-Five-Three Rule?”

“No,” answered Tory with a little laugh, brushing her hair back. “What’s that?”

“Bathroom etiquette,” Aisha answered, giving Hawk a look before turning her eyes back on Tory. “Say you got five stalls in the bathroom, or urinals or whatever. The first guy takes the first one, the second guy takes the fifth, and the third guy the third. Under no circumstances whatsoever is the second guy supposed to take the second urinal. The rule’s set in stone. It’s ridiculous. Also, no talking whatsoever and eyes have to face forward at all times.”

Tory smirked and inquired, “What happens when a fourth guy comes in?”

“He holds it in, obviously,” clarified Aisha, which made both girls shake their heads and erupt in a fit of giggles. 

Listening to all of this while he nursed his Diet Coke, Hawk chimed in, asking, “What, don’t girls do that, too?” He wasn’t about to tell them about the instances he unknowingly broke the One-Five-Three Rule, and how he didn’t understand at the time why the guys in the bathroom kept giving him dirty looks over it, until Demetri finally explained it to him. What, did girls think there was an honest-to-God manual about this sort of thing? Eli wished it had been that easy, but mostly the unwritten rules were learned through trial and error, or by getting smacked upside the head until they sunk in.

Aisha told him emphatically, “Girls aren’t insecure like that.”

That sounded like bullshit to Hawk. Sometimes it seemed like girls could be even meaner to each other than guys. “What about Girl Code?” he asked them.

They paused for a moment when their order was called. Then, as she dipped a chicken wing in some blue cheese dressing, Tory looked at Hawk and told him, “Girl Code and Bro Code are totally not the same thing.” She and Aisha commenced with continuing to find things about the Bro Code to mock, from how guys refused to watch chick flicks, how stupid it was that guys always tried to one-up each other at any challenge like everything had to be a pissing contest, and the ridiculousness of the Golden Rule of “bros before hoes.” All between eating the hot wings.

They laughed at it all so openly, these arbitrary rules of masculinity. Their conversation began to grate on Hawk’s nerves. He felt himself getting angrier the longer he listened. It was easy for them to laugh it off, wasn’t it? They were girls, they weren’t beholden to those rules, they didn’t get punished for failing to live up to them, they had no idea what it was like to have been a sissy nerd near the bottom rung of the male social ladder.

They didn’t get how tenuous any gains on that front were, or how closely that rep had to be guarded once it had been earned. Hadn’t Sensei Lawrence taught them that? Or did they just not listen to those parts because they were girls? “Can you just change the topic already?!” Hawk suddenly snapped.

Both Tory and Aisha gave him a wide-eyed look at that display of temper. “Wow, what bed did you roll off the wrong side of this morning?” asked Aisha, her own voice carrying an edge to it.

“Sorry,” Hawk apologized, irritated with himself for snapping at them like that. 

Tory, thankfully, threw him a bone and did change the topic. “Okay then, maybe you can help settle this debate Aisha and I were having the other day. Just how much hairspray do you use in the morning?” she asked, eyeing Hawk’s red mohawk.

That made Aisha grin, and she pressured Hawk some more. “Come on, there’s no other guys here, we won’t tell them how much time you have to be spending in the bathroom each morning. Promise on the Girl Code. So come on, how much hairspray? Be real. It’s gotta be a lot, right?”

Hawk found himself smiling, in spite of the ridiculousness. “Half a can,” he answered with slight exaggeration, just because he could.

“Told you so,” said Aisha to Tory, taking another wing from the basket. Dipping it in a cup of ranch, she then said, “Alright, so my verdict is these are qualified to be labeled as actually spicy. Good choice, picking that place.”

While they continued eating, Hawk’s eyes drifted over to the beach nearby, at a group of college students who had congregated in the area to play frisbee and volleyball and to have a party. He spotted the large blue water cooler, and the idea hit him. Without a second thought, Hawk stood up from the bench and kicked off his sandals. “I’m gonna check out that party over there and see if they’ll give me a beer. Be right back.”

“Snag us a couple, too, if you can,” said Tory, wiping her fingers on a napkin, and beside her Aisha nodded, indicating that it sounded like a solid plan.

Hawk gestured that he’d heard and walked over on the beach where the partiers were having a blast. Trying to keep a swag to his step, hard as that was when walking on sand, Hawk stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered up to the big guy hovering around the water cooler, the one guarding the alcohol even as he drank from a bottle himself. “‘Sup, man,” Hawk said nonchalantly.

“‘Sup, bro,” the guy returned. His eyes drifted up to Hawk’s hair and he added, “Nice mohawk.”

“Thanks. Hey, if I give you a five, think I could get three beers from you?”

The guy gave him a deeper, more scrutinizing look, eyeing him up and down suspiciously, like this was some sort of setup. Squinting, he asked Hawk, “You underage?”

Hawk chuckled a bit. “Nah, man. I’m flattered, though. I got my ID if you need to check it.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder at where Tory and Aisha were still sitting at the picnic table. “I was thinking about buying those babes over there a couple drinks, but you know how they up-charge on the beach, and all I got on me right now is ten bucks. Help a guy out, huh?”

The guy still didn’t look entirely convinced by Hawk’s bluff, but he ended up relenting. “Alright, give me the ten and I’ll give you four beers.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” Hawk knew a bargain when he heard one. He slipped the guy the money, and after waiting for him to open the bottles he strolled back to Aisha and Tory with this prizes. He must’ve made it look easy at this point, and he couldn’t help but smirk boastfully when he handed the girls their beers, keeping the extra one for himself. 

After taking a swig from her bottle, Tory arched an eyebrow and asked him, “So what’d you say to convince them to give you some?”

Hawk smirked. “Can’t tell you. Bro Code.”


	17. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. The act or process of spending a great length of time with a raptor without letting it fall asleep, in order to man, or train, it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

After he finished styling his liberty spikes that morning, Hawk put away his blow dryer and went about cleaning up the clutter around the sink that was always left behind after doing his hair. He tried to reassemble some sense of organization to things. The hair clips went back in the cup. He set his freeze spray, hair gel, and styling putty to the side, lining them up in front of some of his older hair products.

In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of his container of Manic Panic hair dye, the one he’d used when he changed his hair color from blue to red. Hawk didn’t know why his eyes focused on the label, why they paid attention to the word “vegan” what was proudly printed on the top corner, but they did. A sharp pain immediately followed. 

Hawk grimaced. He reached a hand up and fidgeted with his shirt collar. The pain got worse, it felt like it actually seared, catching him off-guard. He thought back to that night, to when Moon dumped him. Why was he thinking about that this morning? Why now, of all times? Why complicate things like that? He didn’t want to be in a bad mood. He certainly didn’t want to risk feeling sad. 

Hawk’s eyes drifted up to look at his reflection in the mirror. His expression went stone cold. The Hawk didn’t have time for this sensitive nonsense. Be an alpha. So, with two loud sniffs, he swallowed that hurt back down. He turned the hair dye container around so he didn’t have to look at the label, then walked out of the bathroom.

Over at his apartment in Reseda, Miguel grabbed a blueberry pop-tart out of the cabinet, taking one out of the foil before sticking the other back in the box. Chewing on a bite, he checked his phone for the time. That was when he noticed a text from Hawk: _running late be there soon_

“Okay, I’m heading to work,” his mother called out, walking to the door after grabbing her purse. “Don’t forget, I’m going out with Graham tonight. I’ll probably just get changed at work and go straight to meet him from there, so I might not be home until late. Let your Ya-Ya know there’s still leftovers in the fridge for dinner.”

“Yep,” Miguel responded to announce he’d heard her while he texted Hawk back to let him know he got his message. After his mom left, Miguel shoved the rest of the pop-tart in his mouth and scarfed it down. Feeling the pastry start to stick to the roof of his mouth, he opened the fridge and took a big swig of orange juice, straight from the bottle.

“_Use a cup_!” his Ya-Ya exclaimed, having walked by the kitchen just at that moment to catch him in the act. Reaching around him into the fridge to grab the carton of eggs, Rosa shook her head, rolling her eyes. “_Just because your Sensei lives like a slob doesn’t mean you have to pick up those habits. I mean, I like the man, but keep it to your karate lessons and music choices, huh?_”

Miguel grinned sheepishly and put the bottle back in the fridge. “Sorry,” he apologized, before checking the time on his phone again. It was cutting it close. “I gotta head out. See you later!” Then he grasped his backpack from the couch and headed outside to wait on his ride.

Miguel was worried they would be late to the dojo. Sensei Lawrence really didn’t like stragglers, and Miguel didn’t feel up to doing the fifty curl-ups that would be the resulting punishment for not showing up to class on time. There was especially no excuse for him, since the apartments were so close to the strip mall. Miguel thought about just heading out on his own, but Hawk was already on his way and that seemed like a shit thing to do to someone who was giving him a ride. So he waited, and soon enough Hawk’s car pulled into the apartment lot. Climbing into the passenger side, he asked Hawk, “Hey, man, what took you? I was seriously about to bike it.”

“What do you think this is, an Uber?” joked Hawk, pulling out of the parking lot while Miguel tossed his backpack in the back seat and hooked his seatbelt. 

“God, I hope not,” Miguel laughed, “‘cause I don’t got Uber money on me right now.”

Hawk grinned and then explained, “Sorry, traffic was backed up and I also had to fill up on gas first. Chill out though. We still got, like, ten minutes before class starts, plenty of time to get there, we won’t be late. And I got you a Powerade, if you want it. It’s in the bag by your feet. There’s also an extra PayDay in there, too, if you need pre-class snackage.”

Miguel retrieved the bottle. Fruit Punch, his favorite flavor of the stuff. “Thanks,” he said, his mouth curling up. He also accepted the candy bar. “Good call. Sensei told me before he left this morning he’s having us practice defense today. You know that means getting tossed to the floor a lot. We’ll probably need the extra electrolytes. And I could use the extra protein right now.”

“Defense? Pfft, sounds boring,” declared Hawk dismissively.

“Nah, it’ll be fun,” Miguel countered, unwrapping the PayDay and biting into the peanuts and caramel. He was looking forward to it.

As they continued driving, Miguel spotted the way Hawk kept giving him the occasional look, glancing back and forth between his face and the road ahead of them, like he was doing a double-take. “What is it?” Miguel finally asked, picking a chewed peanut from between his front teeth.

Squinting his eyes and giving him another brief glance, Hawk inquired, “You trying to grow a mustache?”

The hand picking at his teeth flew up to trace his fingers over his upper lip. Miguel let out an irritated sigh when he felt something that had grown there overnight, something more than peach fuzz but less than full stubble. “Shit, I forgot to shave this morning,” he said, bringing his hand back down and taking another bite of his PayDay. He knew he’d forgotten to do something. “Surprised my mom didn’t notice, to be honest.”

“You should grow it out,” suggested Hawk with a nod, returning his attention to driving. “Just to see what it would look like. You could always shave it if it looks like shit.”

“I don’t think so. I think my mom would cry if she ever saw me with one,” remarked Miguel half-jokingly. “You should’ve been there to see her when my voice first started cracking. Total waterworks.”

Hawk chuckled. “Moms, amirite? They just want us to stay kids forever. Me? I’d grow one, if I could.”

Miguel was about to crack a joke about how ridiculous he thought Hawk would look with facial hair, but when he looked across at him, Miguel’s eyes were drawn to the other boy’s cleft lip scar, and he decided maybe the joke wouldn’t be so funny after all. So he just took another bite from the candy bar instead.

“Miss Robinson, get in the circle!”

“Yes, Sensei.” Aisha stood up to go stand in the middle of the wide circle Sensei Lawrence had the students form in the main dojo.

Aisha was the star of the class that day at Cobra Kai. None of the other Cobras were better at defense than she was, and Sensei Lawrence knew it. “Alright everyone, pay attention to Miss Robinson,” he told the class. Miguel gave her a knowing nod, which she returned. Meanwhile, Sensei Lawrence continued, “I know in the past I’ve said that nothing is more badass than good offense, and I stand by that. _But_ if you can’t take a hit, then your best offense ain’t shit!”

From where he sat on the mat between Hawk and Tory, Miguel nodded again in agreement. What Sensei Lawrence said made sense. When it came to developing his own personal style of karate over the past few months, Miguel had preferred to keep his offensive and defensive skills pretty even. Seemed like it was the best way to be the most adaptive fighter. Plus it gave him an advantage over fighters who picked one over the other. Sometimes it still blew his mind that some of the other guys didn’t think like that; like the guy sitting next to him, for instance.

“Hawk! You’re up!” announced Sensei Lawrence, motioning with his hand for his student to join Aisha in the center of the circle. Hawk’s brows furrowed mistrustfully for a second, and he shot a brief glance at Miguel before standing up and taking his spot.

Miguel wrapped his hands over his knees, his fingers drumming in anticipation of the upcoming fight. It was going to be good. Aisha and Hawk were great fighters, even if their styles were completely different. He watched as both of them gave a customary bow towards Sensei and then another at each other. Miguel understood why Sensei Lawrence had chosen Hawk as the test opponent. Who better to fight the student with the best defense than the one who favored offense over everything?

Hawk could feel his muscles winding up, and he shook them loose before getting into a fighting stance. What, did Sensei Lawrence pick him to make some sort of point? Or was he hoping to humiliate him in front of the class again? Hawk hoped it wasn’t the latter, because he was tired of being humiliated all the time. Well, he wasn’t going down without a fight, even against Aisha. He thought about how many headbands he’d captured at Coyote Creek, and he remembered the no-holds-barred fights Sensei Kreese had them engage in when the King Cobra had taught the class, and how he’d dominated them. You were either a winner or a loser. And Hawk knew which one he wanted to be.

So when Sensei Lawrence gave the signal, Hawk attacked. From the sidelines, Miguel observed Hawk open with a spin kick, which Aisha blocked with her arms before it could make contact with her chest and earn him the point. Hawk tried to catch Aisha off-guard by twisting around and repeating the same move from the other side, but she ducked to avoid his foot, and then reflexively shoved his back with her hands, pushing him forward to put some distance between them again. 

Catching his footing, Hawk turned around and quickly closed the gap between him and Aisha. He threw a punch at her face, but she raised her arm at the right moment to block it. She then took a chance to launch a blow herself, aiming for Hawk’s exposed chest with her fist. He avoided it by shuffling a couple steps back nimbly. He tried kicking her again, but Aisha absorbed the hit again with her arms, protecting herself and keeping her opponent from getting a point.

Hawk was getting angry now. He knew Aisha was really good, he knew this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. But he didn’t want to lose. So he attacked again, unleashing one furious move after the other. He threw another punch, which Aisha extended her hand out to block. He twisted around to deliver a backhanded hit, but Aisha ducked. His attempt at a strike kick was hit away. She absorbed another kick, evaded another, and then another as well.

When Aisha blocked yet another punch, Hawk decided he had had enough. Gritting his teeth, he reared his arm back and prepared to launch his most vicious strike yet. Aisha saw his weak spot and took advantage of it without hesitation. Coiling her leg back, she snapped it out when he tried making his move. The ball of her foot made brutal contact with his chest, sending him falling to the floor on his back. When Aisha hit, she made sure to hit hard. She preferred the method of a one-hit KO whenever possible.

Sensei Lawrence gave a firm nod. “Good work, Miss Robinson.” While Hawk picked himself off the floor into a sitting position with a groan, rubbing at his sore chest, Sensei Lawrence turned to look at the class and asked his students, “Alright, so what did Hawk do wrong?” The other students looked at each other in silence at first. Meanwhile, Aisha walked over and clasped Hawk’s hand, helping pull him up to his feet.

The others remained quiet. Mitch looked at Stingray, who eyed Kevin, who glanced at Bert, who shrugged at Dieter. All of them had gotten their asses kicked by Hawk at one time or another, so they weren’t in a hurry to criticize his fighting style. So it was Miguel who spoke up, answering simply, “Poor defense, Sensei.” Hawk should have pulled back as soon as Aisha coiled her leg, blocking it instead of plowing straight forward. He must’ve thought he could make contact first. That or he’d been too blinded by his ego to notice her make that move at all.

“That’s right,” said Sensei Lawrence. “Miss Robinson here was able to see the attacks coming and stop them. You need to be able to read your opponent’s moves in order to effectively counter. It doesn’t matter how hard you whale into them if you can’t make contact. All you’re doing is wasting your energy.” He shot Hawk a hard look as he said that. “A cobra shouldn’t waste its venom on every single strike. Sometimes you need to lie in wait for the perfect opportunity, so when you _do_ strike, you strike hard!”

“Yes, Sensei,” the class responded. 

Sensei Lawrence continued, “And just to make sure that lesson sinks in, you’re either gonna learn to block today or you’re _all _gonna get thrown to the mats.” Glancing over his shoulder at Aisha, he said, “Miss Robinson, line them up! Don’t hold back.”

Aisha nodded, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Yes, Sensei.”

It went that way in class for the rest of the day. Just like Miguel had predicted, it involved a lot of being tossed around on the floor. By the end, they were all wiped. It was an important lesson to learn, though. Miguel understood that. Afterwards, he slung the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and told Aisha, “Great work today. Pretty sure Bert’s gonna be feeling that punch for a while.”

“Thanks,” said Aisha. Then, turning to Tory, she asked, “Hey, you’re still up for tonight, right?”

Grabbing her own bag, Tory smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’m off work at seven. I already let my mom and brother know I’ll be home pretty late.”

“Great, Mom and I will pick you up at the roller rink,” Aisha told her.

“You guys doing something?” Miguel butted in, curious. 

Tory winked at him and answered, “Movie night at Aisha’s house. I’m sure there’s gonna be lots of makeup talk, probably looking up pics of hot guys on Instagram, swapping our deepest, darkest secrets over a huge bowl of popcorn. You know, girl stuff.”

“Popcorn and a big ass pizza,” agreed Aisha with a grin, wrapping her arm warmly over Tory’s shoulders. The two continued chatting as they walked towards the bathroom, where the girls could get changed back into their normal clothes, while the guys parted to the other room that had been designated for them.

A quick glance around the main dojo showed Hawk was nowhere to be seen, so Miguel strolled over to the back room. He was in there, jabbing at the punching bag with his fists. Apparently he still had some pent up energy he needed to let out. Miguel walked over closer and said, “Hmm. I figured after today’s lesson that maybe you’d rather be practicing your defense some more. Need a partner?” 

“What difference does it make?” asked Hawk, delivering a firm kick to the punching bag. His face burned, thinking about what happened in class earlier. “I’ll just get better at attacking. You don’t have to worry about stopping an enemy’s attacks when they’re worried about stopping yours.”

Miguel just shook his head, thinking back to the time when he used to think that way, during the early days when he’d first joined the new Cobra Kai. But he’d gotten wiser since then, because Sensei had as well. It felt like Hawk was just being stubborn now. “Is that how you think you’re gonna win tournaments?” he asked pointedly. 

Striking the bag with his knuckles, Hawk replied back, “Who’s talking about tournaments? You remember what Sensei Kreese said, just because you land a point doesn’t mean the fight ends in real life.”

“Sensei Kreese isn’t here anymore,” Miguel pointed out, rolling his shoulders back uneasily. Even when the man was gone, it felt like his presence still lingered in the dojo.

That got Hawk to stop hitting the punching bag. He stood still for a few seconds, catching his breath and wiping his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his gi. Then he turned around to face Miguel. “Yeah,” was all he said before walking past him to where he’d put his bag down. He sat on the mat beside it, pulling out his Powerade to take a couple big gulps from the bottle.

Miguel joined him, sitting down and setting his backpack on his other side. He polished off his own Powerade while the two of them simply sat in silence for a couple minutes. Licking the fruit punch flavor from his lips, and tossing the empty bottle in his bag, he offered, “You know, if you need extra help with any lessons, like understanding them or anything, I’m here.” He didn’t want to make Hawk feel like he didn’t get it, but lately it seemed like he’d been struggling for some reason.

Thankfully Hawk didn’t take his offer the wrong way. He just snorted and joked, “You offering to punch me in the face until I learn to take a hit?”

Miguel grinned and shook his head again. “Nah, I told you before, I like that face too much to risk messing it up.” Hawk looked at him and smiled at that. Miguel liked that particular smile. It seemed genuine, without the usual trace of cockiness or masking.

They had said they would keep the public displays of affection to a minimum inside the dojo. Did it really matter anymore, though? Sensei Lawrence knew. Sensei Kreese was gone. And they were alone now, anyway. So Miguel allowed himself the initiative to lean over and press his lips against Hawk’s, bringing his hand around to cradle the nape of the other boy’s neck, knowing how good that felt. Hawk was tentative at first, probably worried about the fact that Sensei could very well walk in at any moment and see them, but he regained his confidence quickly and returned the kiss.

Miguel then pulled back, and he let out a breathy laugh, trying to conceal his cheesy grin by pressing his lips together. It made Hawk crack a grin himself. “What?” he asked.

Reaching over to his other side, into his backpack, Miguel grabbed his hand towel and tossed it at Hawk’s face. “You’re sweaty as hell, man. It’s gross.”


	18. Rouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rouse: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. The action of a hawk erecting its feathers and then shaking them; part of grooming; a sign of a relaxed and content bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Miguel’s mother had given him a bit of extra spending money from her overtime paycheck, so he texted Hawk and suggested they go to the mall after karate practice finished that day, so he could find something to buy. No use letting it just burn a hole in his pocket. It had been a while since he’d treated himself to something other than fast food, and buying a book, or a DVD, or a video game might just hit the spot. Just a little something. After all, it would be a long time between now and Christmas, the next time he could expect to get something really nice. And spending some time at the mall sounded like fun anyway.

“I’m gonna roll the window down,” Miguel told Hawk before doing so, allowing Hawk to adjust the air-conditioning accordingly. The wind caused by the movement of the car as they drove across the highway felt good blowing in his face and through his hair. Hawk, meanwhile, kept his window rolled up. Miguel assumed because it would probably mess with his mohawk too much.

Hawk had synced the stereo of his car to his phone so he could blast an 80s rock playlist. Next up was a song from Queen. It was Miguel’s jam. Bobbing his head to the beat, tapping his fingers outside the window, he found himself starting to really get into it and singing along with the lyrics. Hawk raised his eyebrows, giving him an amused look. His glance made Miguel stop for a moment. “What?” he asked, a touch self-consciously, even as he tried to hide it behind a smile.

“No, keep doing it,” replied Hawk, reaching a hand down to the stereo screen to hit repeat on the song. “I like it.” 

So Miguel kept doing it.

When they got to the mall, the place was really packed for a Thursday, with people hitting the summer sales like it was Black Friday or something. Hawk hated large crowds, the loud chatter and constant bustle of people swarming around them made him feel on edge. Miguel didn’t seem to care two ways about it. He took the lead, since it was his suggestion that they come out there in the first place.

First he had them walk into a Barnes & Noble, where Miguel did a cursory glance at the Young Adult bookshelves. Not much caught his attention; it looked like Dystopia and Paranormal Romance were still the new hotness when it came to what was being released lately, and he wasn’t a big fan of either. He did notice how Hawk stood just outside proximity to the Science Fiction section, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. 

Miguel chose not to make any remark on it, saying instead, “Let’s check out GameStop.” But GameStop proved to be a bust. Nothing particularly exciting in the discount bin that Miguel could find to play on his DS. So he left there empty-handed, too. It looked as though he wasn’t going to be leaving with either a book or a game that day.

They kept walking aimlessly across the mall, passing along the various clothing shops, and trying their to avoid eye contact with the kiosk vendors who wanted to hype up their merchandise. Miguel’s face suddenly lit up when he spotted the comic book store coming up along their path on the right. “Oh hey, let’s stop in here for a sec,” he suggested, pointing at the place. “I wanna see what new issues of _Deadpool_ they got out.”

His enthusiasm did not prove infectious, however. Instead, Hawk planted his feet firmly on the ground once they stood just outside the shop. He put his hands in his jeans pockets, jingling his car keys with one and fidgeting with his wallet with the other, just to give them something to do. His features got hard, brows knitting to the bridge of his nose. “I can’t go in there,” he said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders back.

Miguel sighed and rolled his eyes. Not this shit again. He really didn’t get what the deal was. Why did being a badass mean having to give up enjoyable things like comic books? Not that Miguel would consider himself a super geek or anything, but he knew these things were fun, and he also knew, at one point, Eli had considered them to be fun, too. So he teased, “Oh, let me guess, the Hawk’s embarrassed to be seen in a place like this? Why does it bother you so much?”

“No, I mean I literally _can’t_ go in there,” Hawk repeated, more than a touch testily this time. “I got banned from that store.” He glanced inside the comic book store and looked at the owner behind the counter, who was busy helping a customer ring up a purchase. If he stepped inside the place, even if he’d wanted to, Hawk knew the guy would call the mall cops immediately to come and forcibly remove him. The last thing he wanted was to suffer the embarrassment of having Valley Mall’s finest rent-a-cops call his mom to come pick him up for causing a scene _again_. He had lucked out when it came to punishment the first time, but if it happened again he was sure his parents would ground him forever.

Miguel just blinked in confusion for a couple seconds before he remembered. “Oh right. The mall fight?” Hawk nodded. Miguel stuck his hands in his own pockets and shifted on the balls of his feet as he thought about what to say next. He stepped out of the way of the foot traffic when a lady had to squeeze past to get around him. Then he finally spoke the question that was on his mind, ignoring all the warning bells in his head that told him not to, that he was going to step in it if he did. “Have you and Demetri talked since…?”

“No,” answered Hawk, narrowing his eyes meanly, “and I don’t _want_ to talk to him.” Demetri had chosen his side. He had chosen Miyagi-Do. What was there to talk about?

“It might be a good idea.” Letting tension hang in the air until it became a toxic smog never seemed like a smart thing to do, in Miguel’s opinion. That had been part of the reason he was so frustrated by Sam blocking him on social media and avoiding his calls, because it meant that, without communication, there was no way to talk things out and reach an understanding. Wasn’t part of becoming a responsible adult learning how to talk things out?

Hawk’s jaw clenched, and he snapped defensively, “Just mind your own business, man!” He didn’t need Miguel’s advice on this subject. He hadn’t asked for it. What happened between him and Demetri had nothing to do with him.

Miguel’s face pinched in irritation at that outburst. “Hey, don’t get snippy with me! You’re the one who got yourself into that mess,” he threw back.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t need you to remind me.” Hawk looked down at his feet, unable to stand the harsh glare of disappointment Miguel was giving him. It made him angrier the longer he felt it digging into him, making his muscles tense. And he hadn’t come out to the mall that day to get aggravated, he’d wanted to have a good time. So there was still a hint of snappishness to his voice when he said, “Look, if you want to go in there and look through nerd shit, go ahead. I’ll wait for you out here.” With that, he walked over to the nearby bench and parked himself on it, pulling out his phone.

At first Miguel thought about following him over to the bench, but decided instead that he did actually want to scope the comic shop; besides, Hawk obviously needed a few minutes to cool his head, and Miguel wasn’t going to put up with his bad mood in the meantime. It had been the right move to make. Because even though Miguel walked back out of the comic book store empty-handed ten minutes later, Hawk’s sourness had dissipated, and he called Miguel over to check out a funny video clip he’d just found while browsing his phone.

Next they stopped by the FYE, where Hawk pretended he was too cool to scan the geeky merchandise at that store, although his eyes kept gazing over at the sci-fi memorabilia, at all the _Star Trek_ and _Doctor Who_ stuff they had out on display. Eli really wanted to look through it. But Hawk forced himself to stand by the discount bin where Miguel was busy scrounging through the movies labeled on sale. He didn’t want to stay in this store longer than he needed to. What if he regressed? What if he walked out with something nerdy? He’d been too good for too long to risk that.

“Oh hey, they got _Top Gun_,” Miguel said, pulling the DVD out of the pile. “Sensei says this is an action-movie classic. And it’s only five bucks, I think I’ll get it.” Thinking turned into an actual purchase, and the two walked out of the store. It may or may not have been worth an entire drive to the mall just to pick up one bargain bin DVD, but neither of them were complaining. Miguel figured he could just save the extra money up for something else later.

“Wanna come back to my place and watch it?” asked Hawk as they headed towards the mall exit. With a sly grin, he wrapped his arm over Miguel’s shoulders and explained, “My parents are gonna be out all day, they won’t be back till late tonight. We could be alone for a while.”

Miguel caught the hint, probably the most subtle Hawk was capable of being, and he returned the smile with a mischievous one of his own as he wound his own arm around Hawk’s back. “You guys do got a nice TV.”

They drove to Hawk’s home in Encino, and made a good pretense of watching the movie in the living room for a while. They managed to make it to the scene where the characters started playing a game of volleyball on the beach, before Miguel scooted closer to Hawk on the couch. “You said Sensei recommended this?” asked Hawk with a skeptical arch of his eyebrow, while his eyes didn’t leave the television screen. Sensei Lawrence really did only see what he wanted to see, apparently.

“Heh, yeah,” answered Miguel, licking his bottom lip once. “You know, it was a different time and all, the 80s. I don’t think Sensei even realizes.” Another few minutes passed by while they watched the flick. Then Miguel reached his closest hand over and rested it on Hawk’s knee, signaling that he was ready to let the movie become background noise for the time being; he could always watch it straight-through uninterrupted later, after all.

Hawk looked down at the hand on his knee at first, a corner of his mouth curling before he glanced up to see the look Miguel was giving him. “You ready to make out?” he asked, cutting right through the romantic nuance to get straight to what has being suggested.

For all the shit that Hawk gave him for it, Miguel did suspect that, deep down under his macho posturing, Hawk was secretly as much a closet-romantic as he was. But there were times when Miguel found his blunt-force approach to things to be pretty refreshing. No worrying about having to read signs and cues. Straight to the point. It made Miguel laugh. “Yeah,” he said.

Miguel’s hands reached out to wrap around Hawk’s shoulders and pull him in closer. They shared a shallow breath between them before kissing each other. Miguel closed his eyes and he could feel hands reach around to cradle the back of his head, fingers combing through his hair. He wished he could do the same in return, his own fingers practically itched to do it, but Miguel knew how Hawk was about anyone touching his hair. Maybe one day he could convince him to let it down.

They pulled apart to breathe, hands sliding loosely down each other’s shoulders, and Miguel reopened his eyes. “Have you ever Frenched?” he asked out of the blue. He had seen it in plenty of movies and shows, but he and Sam had never gotten that far with each other. But he was really curious, and Hawk seemed like an adventurous kind of guy. Maybe they could experiment some. They had plenty of time to themselves, after all.

“A little,” answered Hawk. Moon had initiated it one night while they were making out, and he’d gone along with her lead. Nothing against Moon’s skills, she seemed to know what she was doing, but he had thought it felt a bit strange, in all honesty; but no way in hell had he complained about that to her at the time, nor would he admit that to Miguel right now. What kind of wangless loser would he look like if he did? “You wanna try?” he asked back instead.

Miguel nodded. “Yeah.” He leaned forward and pressed their lips back together, drawing out two long, open-mouthed kisses before hesitantly experimenting by pushing his tongue inside the mouth touching his own. He reached his hand to wrap around the back of Hawk’s neck, mostly to steady himself so he didn’t lose his resolve as he slid his tongue over the other boy’s. The kiss was very sloppy, and after a minute of it, Miguel pulled back. “That feels really weird,” he admitted with a breathy laugh, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“That's what I thought,” said Hawk, returning the laugh. Good, so it wasn’t just him.

Well, that was a bit of a bust. But Miguel was glad to have tried it, at least. He could check that one off the bucket list. Trying to save some face, however, he gave a nonchalant shrug and said, “I mean, I’m willing to try it again. Maybe later. I think I liked the neck thing more, though.”

Hawk’s crooked smile widened. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Miguel felt warm breath against the tender skin of his neck before Hawk made his move and kissed him there. He grunted when Hawk then pushed him down on the couch as he continued, so he could lay on top of him to get in a more optimum position, one hand cradling the other side of his neck, while the other slipped under Miguel’s shirt and wrapped around his lower back. Hawk alternated between kissing and nipping Miguel’s neck, drawing out noises from him that were pretty undignified. That was okay. Nobody but them needed to know.

It made Miguel’s skin tingle. He didn’t mind that he would probably get another hickey out of it, because it felt good. It felt really good to be treated like this, he reflected. To be wanted, to be desired, to be treated like someone special. He really liked it. He was beginning to realize that he craved it. A part of him had been worried that, after screwing things up with Sam, maybe he didn't deserve to feel those things anymore. But his insecurities thawed as he lost himself to how nice those kisses against his neck felt as they trailed up to his jawline, savoring the moment; sometimes not overthinking things was the way to go.

He let Hawk continue until his mouth found its way back up to his own. His lips were warm now, and their kiss was long and slow. Hawk’s hands traveled up to rest on Miguel’s chest, and he smirked to end the kiss. But Miguel decided he wanted more, and tugged on Hawk’s shirt to guide him back down for another, greedier kiss. He was loath to let go.

When they finally broke apart again, Miguel shifted from under Hawk, maneuvering so they could lay next to each other, on their sides, facing one another still. The couch made it a tight fit, but they found it almost cozy, feeling warm against each other like that. Miguel’s arms curled around Hawk’s waist, hugging him close, burying his face in the other boy’s shoulder. 

Miguel closed his eyes again and just laid there in that position, contentedly, not caring if it made him seem needy or desperate. What was so needy and desperate about wanting to be close to another person, to feel their affection and want to give it in return? He was so calmed by the contact that, if they had been in a bed instead of a couch, he could’ve easily fallen asleep where he was right then. He wasn’t interested in moving anytime soon, either, and clenched his arms tighter to let that be known.

Hawk rested his cheek against the top of Miguel’s head, feeling the softness of his hair. He returned the embrace, squeezing his arms around Miguel’s back. Then he shut his eyes, too, listening only to the sounds of their breathing and the movie still playing in the background. It was so relaxing, so intimate, that it unguarded him. Just for then, it made him leave his posturing behind him, it made him drop the mask, it made him forget that he was supposed to be an alpha.

It would be easy to lose himself to something like this, he figured. This must have been what it would feel like to just fall asleep innocently next to someone in the same bed. He wondered if the feeling would be just as wonderful waking up next to them in the morning, in the same position after a deep night’s sleep. But he could only daydream about that, he supposed. This would probably be the closest he’d get to the real thing for a long time.

Eli couldn’t help but let a sad smile spread over his face, thinking about that. “This is nice,” he said softly.

A satisfied sigh parted from between Miguel’s lips. “Yeah.”


	19. Bumblefoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumblefoot: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. Blisters on the hawk's foot caused by trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

There came a sudden loud knock at the Diazes’ apartment door, stirring Miguel from where he was laying on the couch while lazily browsing his phone. He raised his eyebrows when he opened the door and saw it was Sensei Lawrence standing outside, car keys in the hand that was leaning against the doorpost. “Hey,” said his instructor with a short nod. “You doing anything right now?”

Miguel shrugged and shook his head. “Not really.”

“Good,” said Johnny, turning around and motioning for Miguel to follow. “Let’s go grab a bite and talk then.” He pressed the button on the clicker in his hand, and the lights flashed on his black-and-yellow car nearby.

A beaming smile spread over Miguel’s mouth, and he quickly let his Ya-Ya know he was heading out with his Sensei and would be back later. This must have been for a special occasion. Perhaps it meant Sensei Lawrence’s mood had improved. He’d been irritable and all around down in the dumps for the previous couple of days, and Miguel had the suspicion he’d been drinking whatever problem it was away. But he looked like he was feeling better now, as he drove them away from the apartments, windows down and music blasting on the radio.

They went back to the same burger place Sensei had taken him to the last time, the one across from the hospital. Miguel wondered if maybe this might become a regular outing for them. He really liked the idea of that. 

They ordered their Cokes and burgers and fries, and at first Sensei Lawrence kept it relegated to small talk, chatting for a bit about class strategy at the dojo, then how Sensei’s dates had been going since he’d started using the app on his smartphone to set them up. Only when they’d gotten about halfway through eating their food did Sensei Lawrence get to the real reason he’d brought them there.

“So I’ve been dealing with something at the dojo for the past couple days,” he said, tossing the crumpled napkin in his hands onto the table after he wiped some ketchup from the corners of his mouth. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just someone who thought he could pull the rug out from under me, and an asshole whose handshake isn’t worth shit. Like I said, you don’t gotta concern yourself about that, things are good now. But it made me confront some issues, some things about myself, whether I wanted to or not.”

Miguel swallowed the bite of cheeseburger in his mouth, and set the rest of it in his hands back in the basket. He knew from Sensei Lawrence’s tone of voice, from the way his facial expression had started to pinch and wince, that this was about to get personal. Really personal. “Sensei….”

Johnny held up his hand to stop him. “Just let me talk, alright?” Miguel nodded, taking a sip from his Coke. “Earlier you asked me about John Kreese, and everything I told you was true. Back when I was a little younger than you are now, when I first joined Cobra Kai, things weren’t so great at home for me. Never knew my father, and I had a shitty step-dad. I’m not telling you this to throw a pity party. But let’s just say that when I met Sensei Kreese, I needed a stronger father-figure in my life than the one I had at home. And I thought I’d found one.”

Sensei Lawrence paused for a moment to take gulp from his own drink, then to rub his hands together, as if to get some feeling back in them. Miguel wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. So he just listened, absorbing it all in, knowing just how much trust his Sensei must have had in him in order to tell him all this.

“John Kreese taught me how to fight,” explained Johnny, looking down at his worn knuckles, flexing them as he did so. “He made me strong, toughened me up into the badass I am today. He was there for me when it felt like no one else was. When it felt like nobody believed in me, he did. I thought he liked me, like a son even. Maybe deep down, he really did. I’m not sure anymore.”

That had been what Miguel suspected. He could only imagine how distressing it must have been for Sensei Lawrence to be let down by his own Sensei like that at Coyote Creek, after looking up to him for so long, and feeling as though he had no choice but to kick the old man out.

“But he brought his issues into his dojo,” continued Johnny in a grave tone, rubbing a hand over his knuckles now, “the ones I told you about, and that trickled down to us, the kids he was teaching. Everyone became the enemy, and the enemy deserved no mercy, he told us. I thought he was just preparing us for the realities of life, because life can be pretty goddamn merciless; it feels like life really is just out to bust your balls sometimes. But I had to learn, on my own, that not everyone is your enemy, not even the assholes you can’t stand being around. And it’s taken me a long time to realize that.”

Miguel nodded, to show that he understood. Or at least he was beginning to understand. Sometimes you had no choice but to be merciless to an opponent, but that didn’t mean you had to lose yourself to that primal part inside you that saw the whole world as a potential threat. The world wasn’t so bad as all that, and sometimes even an asshole deserved mercy.

Johnny took another drink from his soda to clear his throat, which had started to crack, and then went on. “John Kreese made no distinction between no mercy and no honor. There was no weakness he wouldn’t exploit. But I was sure that I knew the difference, when I reopened Cobra Kai. I knew I’d never teach you kids the bad habits he taught us, I’d never send you kids down the wrong path. But when I saw what happened at the All-Valley, between you and Robby, I guess it sunk in that I’d failed somehow.” 

That unearthed some guilt buried deep inside Miguel, as he thought back to how he’d exploited Robby’s injury during the finals. Not all of it was because of the lesson of “no mercy” that had been drilled into them at Cobra Kai. Some of it had been good, old-fashioned jealousy, that green-eyed monster always lurking in the shadows. He’d wanted so badly to prove himself to be the superior man, to make a point to Sam, to make her feel bad for treating Robby with more respect than it felt like she was treating him, her actual boyfriend at the time. He was ashamed of himself now, reflecting back on that.

So, shaking his head, Miguel tried to assure the man sitting across from him that his behavior at the Tournament wasn’t all his fault. He knew some of the blame was his own. “Sensei, you didn’t -”

Johnny raised a forefinger, cutting off his student again. “And then, right after that, I let Sensei Kreese back in the dojo,” he said, a tight, forced smile breaking across his mouth. It wasn’t a happy smile. “I thought he had changed. He told me he had, and I’d believed him. That was my mistake. But I didn’t realize just how big of a mistake it was until we took all of you up to Coyote Creek. So when he told you to act dishonorably, I knew I’d really fucked things up.” 

His face contorted, and Miguel had to stuff some fries in his mouth to keep himself from interrupting his Sensei again, to keep himself from telling him that he hadn’t fucked up, that he was the one who’d taught him about the difference between no mercy and no honor in the first place.

Sensei Lawrence opened and closed his mouth a couple times, like he was trying to find the right words to continue. Finally, after a few silent minutes, he was able to form them. “I was worried he’d gotten to you kids. But then you decided to be a little wiseass and disobey his order. That….” He paused for a moment again, his eyelids blinking rapidly all of a sudden. Miguel was never, ever ready to see Sensei so emotional like this. “That…just might have been the most humbling moment in my life. I haven’t told you, but I’m really proud of you for that.”

It felt like Miguel’s soul lit up to hear those words. He grinned from ear to ear, because he knew what it must have taken for Sensei Lawrence to get to this point, where he would be so bare with his feelings. “I know you are, Sensei,” he said. But it still meant a lot to hear him say it. “Thanks.”

Letting out a sigh, rolling back his shoulders, Sensei Lawrence leaned his elbows on the table and nodded. “Yeah.” Both of them knew then that it was best to move the subject to something else for the meantime, to give it time for what had been said to just sink in for a while. So Johnny reached for the menu behind the napkin holder and asked Miguel, “Anyway, you up for a couple of chocolate milkshakes?”

“Yeah,” answered Miguel with a light chuckle, polishing off his burger with a few more big bites. While Sensei went up to the counter to get them their desserts, he felt his phone vibrate from his pocket.

Hawk had sent him a text: _hey you up for applebee’s tmrw night?_

This evening was getting better and better. Playfully, he returned the text, asking: _is this a date? ;p_

Hawk texted back: _lol maybe_

Shaking his head, Miguel’s cheesy grin widened, reaching up to pick at his bottom lip, wondering where a date night maybe would lead. He had some extra cash on him to burn now, and an actual, real dinner-date sounded fun. So he replied: _sure sounds great, I’ll buy._

That same evening, over in Encino, Hawk had first pulled into a Shell gas station on his way home so he could fill up his car, since it was nearing empty. Before pumping his gas, he walked inside the station store, heading over to the fridges to grab himself a cold drink. He had thought about just getting a Diet Coke, but then he eyed the fridge holding all the various cans of beer, and wondered if maybe that might be a better idea.

“Hawk?”

He turned around at the sound of his name, and there she was. “Moon….” She stepped up to him from out of the snack aisle, and a bright smile dimpled her cheeks. It was the same sort of smile that had made him smitten with her in the first place. He couldn’t help but return it with one of his own; it was a reflex. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” she responded back. “It’s been a while. Have things been good?” Hawk expected to hear some form of resentment or bitterness in her voice, but he found none. She looked slightly uneasy, but she sounded like she was greeting an old friend, instead of the ex-boyfriend she’d broken things off with because he’d gone off the rails over a Yelp review. That was just the sort of girl she was, though. Still a hippy, still into making the peace wherever she could.

“Yeah, things have been great.” Hawk didn’t want to just exchange simple pleasantries. He wanted to release the floodgates of thoughts and feelings he’d been holding in since that night at the dojo, the night she had dumped him. He still wanted to explain things to her, in a way that would make sense. He didn’t know why he wanted to, but he did.

Pushing her purse strap up her shoulder absent-mindedly, Moon told him, “I’ve seen the pictures you’ve been posting on Instagram, of you and Miguel. I’m really glad it seems to be working out for you guys.” She sounded utterly sincere. It made Hawk regret his mean-spiritedness from back when he’d told Miguel to post the first one, knowing she would see it, when he’d secretly hoped she would be jealous that he got to move on.

“Thanks,” said Hawk. He still fumbled with the words in his head to try and put together what he wanted to say to her. He wanted to let her know that he did not think badly of her, that she had meant so much to him in the short time they had been together, and that he was so sorry for chasing her away with his behavior. But he stopped himself. No way could he form those words. Instead, what came out was, “So you here for gas, too?” What a stupid question. What else would she be doing at a gas station?

Moon nodded. “Yeah, I’m filling it up to go to the beach tonight.”

Hawk tried again. His tongue almost stumbled over itself as he said, “Listen, Moon, about -”

“Hey, babe, what’s taking so long to just pick out some snacks?” Suddenly, a girl with great hair stepped up beside Moon and planted a deep, affectionate kiss on her lips. Moon returned the embrace without a second thought, drawing the other girl in closer. Hawk just watched, stunned to silence. It was the other girl who broke the kiss, when she finally noticed the boy watching them. “Oh, did I interrupt something? Were you guys talking?”

“Oh, sorry,” Moon apologized, taking one of the other girl’s hands in her own. “Piper, this is Hawk,” she told her, glancing at her ex-boyfriend. “Hawk, this is Piper, my uh….”

Piper grinned and gave her a teasing nudge of her elbow, playfully running the fingers of her other hand over Moon’s knuckles. “It’s okay, you can say it. Your girlfriend.” That word hit Hawk hard. _Girlfriend_. Piper was Moon’s girlfriend. And he knew she didn’t mean that in the way most girls used the word. She meant the real thing.

Moon laughed under her breath and apologized again, her cheeks blushing pink. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this.” She looked back at Hawk, still holding Piper’s hand with her own. She looked so happy. Both of them did. 

It made Hawk feel that pang near his collarbone again. And there was a painful lump in the back of his throat. He gave Moon another smile. He wished it didn’t feel as forced as it did this time, because it strained the muscles in his face to make it. “That’s -That’s great,” he stammered. “I’m glad to hear that. Really. It’s great.” He wanted to believe what he was telling her. And a part of him was genuinely happy for her. The other part though? “Well, it’s been nice catching up, but I-I gotta get going.”

Moon looked like she wanted to say something more, but Hawk turned quickly on his feet and hustled away without a drink, out of the store, feeling like a complete wimp as he did so. He really wished he could have just gotten into his car and leave, but he still had to fill up on gas first. He went through the motions mechanically, doing his hardest to keep his eyes focused on that, refusing to let them look back over his shoulder to either the store or to search for wherever Moon was parked. It felt like it took forever. When it was done, he couldn’t hop into his car and drive home fast enough.

Once inside, he passed right by his father, who was sorting through some mail at the kitchen table, heading straight to his room, shutting the door behind him. At first, he simply paced the floor, wringing his hands over and over, trying to regulate his senses, which felt like they were threatening to go haywire. All of his muscles were winding up, and he was having problems shaking them loose.

Logically he knew there was no reason he should feel upset about Moon getting a girlfriend. He knew he was being hypocritical. But feelings were rarely logical. Knowing that just made it worse, because it meant he was being weak. Alphas didn’t let chicks send them into emotional wrecks like this. Enough time had passed, he should’ve been over this by now.

Eli tried to console himself with a bit of truth. Moon had chosen Hawk, not Eli. She hadn’t paid any attention to him back when he was just the nerd with a scar on his lip, not until he’d listened to Sensei Lawrence’s advice and transformed himself into an alpha male. Moon had never known him as Eli, and Hawk had made sure she never did. But had any of that mattered, in the end? She’d dumped him anyway. 

That attempt at self-consolation only made him worry more. What if Hawk wasn’t enough for Miguel, either? What if he fucked that up, too? 

There came a knock on his door. Hawk let out an aggravated sigh and opened it. His father stood on the other side. He had that worried look on his face. “Just checking in,” he told his son. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Hawk lied, his hand still on the doorknob, tapping his fingertips against it, trying to keep his shoulders from shaking.

Simon Moskowitz raised a skeptical eyebrow, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You sure?”

“Yes,” repeated Hawk, harder this time, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Everything’s fine.” Why did his parents have to pry so much?

It was obvious by that stare that his dad didn’t believe him, and for a moment Hawk was worried that he would insist on barging in to have a heart-to-heart chat with him. Hawk wasn’t in the mood for father-son bonding right now. Thankfully, however, his father didn’t do that. He just unfolded his arms again and told him, “Alright. Dinner will be ready in fifteen.”

Hawk nodded. “Okay.” With that, his dad walked away, and Hawk closed his door off to him again. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot off a text to Miguel quickly before he could think twice about it: _hey you up for applebee’s tmrw night?_

It didn’t take long for Miguel to text him back: _is this a date? ;p_

Going on a date with Miguel would be just what he needed to get over this funk. Don’t live in the past, live in the now. Take some initiative. So Hawk sniffed and responded: _lol maybe_

Miguel’s response pinged on the screen: _sure sounds great, I’ll buy_

Hawk selected a thumb’s-up emoji and let Miguel know: _ok I’ll pick you up at 6_. Putting his phone back down, Hawk then buried his face in his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and took a few seething breaths to calm himself down.

He thought about going to talk with his father, to take him up on that offer, since he had been the one in the first place to warn him that he needed to process his feelings from being dumped. Maybe his dad would know what he should do. But Hawk resisted that urge to go running to his parents with his problems. That was juvenile. Only stupid little kids did that. His dad would probably just say he told him so anyway.

Screw it, why was he getting all emotional over this? Things were going really good for him lately. He needed to stop dwelling over stupid shit. So Hawk swallowed his bad feelings back down again, feeling like he was choking on them now. With the heel of his palm, he slapped his forehead to relieve the pressure building up in him. He was so on edge. “Stop it,” he berated himself, hitting his forehead again when he felt his eyes begin to sting. “Get it together.”


	20. Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dive: noun  
Falconry.  
1\. The sudden movement downwards of a raptor, often for the purposes of making a kill, done at a very high speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

“Later Kevin, Bert,” said Hawk, jutting his chin out to the other guys as they parted from the Cobra Kai dojo. He briefly thought about adding a dig at Ass-face when he saw Mitch following behind them. But Hawk stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away instead, trudging onto the parking lot to wait by his car for Miguel. He figured that wouldn’t improve his mood, so he decided to cut the newbie some slack.

The door jingled, and he looked up to see Aisha and Tory walk outside. “Thanks again for letting me vent on Facetime last night,” Aisha told the other girl, vulnerability clear on her face. “I shouldn’t have gotten emotional like that, but Sam just got under my skin with her drama.”

Tory shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t mention it. I’m starting to piece together that she can be a bit much. She really doesn’t deserve you being so understanding, in my opinion.” Aisha just bit her bottom lip in uncertainty. In response, Tory got the topic off of Sam, holding up the envelope in her hand. “And hey, tell your dad thanks for these football cards. He’s really gonna make my brother’s day.”

That brought a smile to Aisha’s face. “Hey, Dad’s happy to talk football with anybody, and it was nice to have someone else for him to unload on last Friday, while you and I hit the pool. I mean, I like football and everything, but when you live with it, it gets to be a bit much, y’know?”

Chuckling, Tory hooked her arm through Aisha’s and replied, “I’ll take your word for it. So, you coming to the roller rink tonight? Still interested in those lessons?”

Aisha nodded, and her smile got sheepish. “Yeah, but you have to promise you won’t laugh if I fall on my ass.”

“I don’t make promises like that,” joked Tory, shaking her head with a mischievous grin. Hawk watched them as they walked off arm-in-arm towards Aisha’s car, parked at the far end of the lot. Seeing the two girls be so close with one another, it made him think of Moon and Piper. He had to force himself to stop dwelling on that.

Hawk rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, deep in his thoughts, and didn’t even notice Miguel had walked outside until he was right in front of him. He was brought back to reality when Miguel’s lips were on his, giving him a quick kiss before walking over to the passenger door. “So, you said six o’clock, right?” asked Miguel while they got inside the car.

“Yeah.”

“Mom just texted saying she wants to take me back-to-school shopping when we get back to the apartments, since she’s gotta work late at the hospital for the next few days,” Miguel remarked, hooking his seatbelt while Hawk turned on the engine. “But we should be done in plenty of time, I’ll let you know if we’re running late. God, can you believe school’s gonna be starting up here again soon? Just end me.”

Hawk shot him a joking grin. “You shut up about that.” Summer always passed by way too fast, and both of them wanted to enjoy what remained of it without having to worry about the stresses of school looming over the horizon. 

Things went normal enough for the rest of the afternoon. Hawk wasted time vegging out in front of the television at his house until Miguel texted that he and his mother were done school shopping, then he went to go pick him up to go out to Applebee’s. Miguel was excited, that was easy to see. Hawk hoped his good mood would catch on; he really didn’t want to be a drag that evening, for Miguel’s sake.

After they ordered their food, they got to talking about class. They both laughed at remembering how Sensei Lawrence threw Stingray to the floor as part of a demonstration that size wasn’t everything in a fight. They laughed even harder when they talked about how Bert may have disproven that lesson when he had been practically tossed across the dojo like a rag doll by a single hit from Mitch. Clearly size mattered, at least a little. Bert tried, though. 

“To be fair, Mitch did kinda cheap-shot him,” pointed out Miguel, munching on some french fries.

Hawk picked at his food with his fork, forcing himself to eat it. After all, how shitty would it be to not eat when Miguel was the one paying for the meal? Meanwhile, his inner thoughts were all jumbled as he kept trying to push down his intruding insecurities that kept threatening to break to the surface. He wanted the topic to remain neutral and fun. So he smirked and retorted, “You do whatever it takes to win.”

“Within reason,” Miguel reminded him, returning his smirk with a raise of his eyebrows and a point of his finger.

“Yeah.” Hawk took a bite of his pasta, mulling over his thoughts while Miguel continued to talk about how Sensei was planning on having them break boards with their heads again next practice. He thought about maybe asking Miguel for his opinion on those things that had been bothering him lately. But that would be dumb. How lame would he come across if he did that, if he asked Miguel for reassurance that it was Hawk he wanted to be with? He didn’t want anything to do with that sissy wimp Eli, right? Hawk was good enough as he was, right?

Right.

Eli had destroyed everything about himself so that Hawk could be reconstructed from the pieces left behind. Sometimes he still found himself wondering if it had been worth it, killing the ugly, weird, sissy nerd so that the cool, confident, brazen badass could take his place. But Hawk tried to beat those misgivings down whenever they cropped up. Could he really have continued living with the bullying, if he hadn’t done that? Could he have continued enduring the loneliness?

Of course it had been worth it.

“You alright?” asked Miguel suddenly, pulling Hawk from his internal contemplations. He must have looked like he’d zoned out.

Hawk nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about how funny it’s gonna be to see Bert try to break those boards again. Remember how he cracked his glasses last time?”

That made Miguel chuckle. “Yeah. That was pretty hilarious, not gonna lie.” While he paused to take a sip of his Coke, Miguel’s eyes were drawn by movement to a group of customers being walked by the hostess to an empty table at the other side of their area in the restaurant. His smile fell. “Oh shit,” he muttered.

That got Hawk’s attention, and he followed Miguel’s line of sight over to the table he was staring at. He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

It was Miyagi-Do. More specifically, it was Robby, Sam, and Demetri. The three chatted amiably with each other as they were seated down at the table, oblivious at the moment to what they had walked into.

“Just ignore them,” suggested Miguel, although whether he was telling that to Hawk or as a warning to himself, he couldn’t be completely sure. _It’s not a big deal_, Miguel tried to reassure himself. It was inevitable that Cobra Kai would have run-ins with Miyagi-Do. It didn’t have to be a reason for war.

Hawk caught Demetri looking over in their direction, and their eyes met for a brief second before he glanced away. So now they knew they were here, too. Hawk frowned uncomfortably, but he turned back around in the booth.

Miguel took a big bite of his chicken wrap and tried to bring the conversation back on track, doing his best to not let his eyes wander back to that table. “So, have you practiced anymore on your defense?” he asked Hawk.

Shrugging, Hawk answered truthfully, “Not really.”

“Why not?” asked Miguel, downing the rest of his drink. Across from him, Hawk shrugged again, providing no explanation. “Well, I know what we should do tomorrow then,” Miguel suggested with a grin. One-on-one practice would be fun.

“Sure, if you want to throw me down to the mats that badly,” quipped Hawk with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

“Yeah, keep dreaming, buddy,” laughed Miguel. Then, feeling the effects of having finished his soda, he said, “Okay I’ll be back, I gotta go to the bathroom.” Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he stood up and walked over towards that area of the restaurant, next to the bar. Without his meaning to, it gave him an opportunity to see more clearly the table where Miyagi-Do was seated. But his eyes drifted there, regardless. Sam and Robby were sitting in chairs opposite one-another. They both had smiles on their faces. Sam looked happy.

Miguel thought about walking over there and apologizing to Sam. Not to say sorry for what happened that night at the canyon, he’d done that over a dozen times. But to apologize for not taking her cold shoulder for what it was, he wanted to say sorry for refusing to give up the pursuit for so long when it was obvious she wasn’t interested anymore. But right then he knew the best thing he could do was just to leave Sam alone. He was ready for both of them to move on.

So Miguel stopped himself from watching. It was wrong to stare. It felt bittersweet to admit it, but he was glad Sam was happy. He remembered what his mother told him, about how that heaviness in his heart right now was from the pang of remembering how happy he’d been in her company. That was okay. They were both entitled to feel happy again, with whomever helped them feel that way. That helped to lift his heart back up a little.

He smiled and went into the bathroom to take care of his business.

Back at the table, Hawk closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his temples. It felt like he could hear every conversation in that restaurant, and it grated on his nerves. He only bristled more when he reopened his eyes and saw a figure standing by the side of his table.

Demetri.

He had a hesitant, strained smile on his face, standing there with his hands in his pockets beside Hawk’s booth. Hawk met his eyes again briefly before looking away. Great. Just great. What did he want? Hawk stared down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs, and his face pinched in irritation. He hoped Demetri would pick up the hint and just go away.

“Hey,” said Demetri. Of course he wouldn’t take the hint. Hawk just flared his nostrils and sighed, not returning his greeting, trying to make it even more obvious that he wanted to be left alone. Still, Demetri continued. “Here on a date?” he asked, trying to strike up small talk, despite the signals that his presence wasn’t wanted. When Hawk maintained his icy silence, Demetri tried again. Widening his grin, he joked, “So, Eli, I knew you were my binary brother, but I had no idea you were also a _bi_-nary brother, eh?”

Hawk narrowed his eyes and gave him a mild look of disgust for that pun. “Go away,” he finally said. Where was Miguel? What was keeping him?

Demetri pressed his lips together in a thin line, like he was thinking twice about staying his course. But he didn’t leave. He kept going. “So, uh, I’ve been learning a lot about karate at Miyagi-Do. Sensei LaRusso has been having us working on balance. Y’know, like inner peace. It’s really worked wonders for me, I gotta say.”

Knitting his brows to the bridge of his nose, Hawk’s features tightened. He fumbled with his fingers more, staring down at them hard. “Didn’t ask,” he replied tersely. What in the world would make Demetri think he’d be interested in whatever Mr. LaRusso was teaching at Miyagi-Do? So he warned him again, “Get out of here, Demetri.” But the other boy remained where he stood, aggravating Hawk even further. Why did Demetri have to try and ruin this evening for him?

Hawk tried to keep in mind what Miguel had once told him. Pick his battles better, pick his battles better, pick his battles better….

A sympathetic expression fell over Demetri’s face. Ignoring all signs that his company wasn’t being tolerated well, he sighed and reached out a hand to clasp Hawk’s tense shoulder. Giving it a friendly squeeze, he said, “I miss us hanging out. Why can’t things just go back to the way they were?”

Hawk’s face reddened in a glower. Go back to the way things were? What, to when they were a couple of defenseless nerds without any friends? To when they were bully-magnets? To when Demetri kept talking for him, when he dragged him down with his defeatist attitude all the time, when he told him to just never try, and to accept that things in life weren’t fair and not to fight it? Was that what Demetri wanted? Hawk glared at the hand squeezing his shoulder, and he fumed at the audacity of what his old friend was suggesting.

He snapped. In a fit of fury, he leapt to his feet and viciously shoved Demetri away from him. Demetri tripped backwards over his feet, right into a waiter who had been unfortunate enough to be walking behind him just at that moment. Both of them fell to the floor, along with a tray full of drinks, getting the attention of all the customers in the immediate area. As well as the attention of Robby and Sam.

Robby was on his feet in a hot second, rushing over to defend Demetri from anymore attacks by placing himself between his teammate and Hawk. Instinctively, Hawk’s hands closed into fists by his sides, and his arms shook in anticipation, in the hopes that he would start swinging them. If the enemy wanted a fight, he’d give it to them. That primal alarm flashing in his brain warned him: hurt the enemy before they hurt you. Putting your enemies down, finishing the fight, was better than the alternative: being afraid all the time.

Hawk had spent his whole life running from threats. Not anymore. Running away was weakness. It was better to get a black eye or a broken nose than to be a coward. So as soon as Robby laid a hand on him, Hawk reared back to attack. But another set of arms pushed Robby away from him first. Miguel. Then Sam was there, too, putting herself between Miguel and Robby. Everyone was screaming at everyone, but Hawk only registered the words coming from another figure who’d entered the picture.

The man in the uniform got in Hawk’s face and raised a forefinger, telling him, “I won’t tolerate punks starting fights in my restaurant! Get out, or I’ll call the authorities!”

Hawk scoffed in response. Like he was scared of the cops. But as much as he wanted to just throw a punch right then and there, he still found himself listening to the order, if only to keep Miguel out of trouble, since they’d come in together. Glaring at Demetri, whom Sam had just started helping to his feet, Hawk brushed past Robby and trudged out of the Applebee’s, hoping maybe Miyagi-Do would follow him to the parking lot, so they could finish the fight.

They didn’t follow him. But Miguel did.

“What the hell was that about, man?” demanded Miguel, following close behind Hawk’s heels. Miguel sounded pissed, and Hawk doubted he was upset on his behalf from the tone of his voice.

All that Hawk said in his defense was, “I didn’t mean to push him into a waiter.” He didn’t say he was sorry about it, though. He’d given Demetri multiple warnings to back off. Demetri never did know when to shut up.

“Why did you push him at all?” Miguel kept interrogating. “And don’t tell me it isn’t my business this time.”

Hawk stopped at the end of the sidewalk and turned around to face him. Miguel crossed his arms and glared at him, hard. He looked almost disgusted. Just like Moon did that night at the dojo. Did it even matter what excuse Hawk gave him? Like he’d ever be able to explain his behavior. He barely understood it himself. But still, he owed Miguel some explanation, didn’t he? “I told him to go away, but he wouldn’t listen. He comes over, spouting his Miyagi-Do bullshit, telling me how he wants things to go back to the way they were. He wants me to become a pussy nerd again, just like him.”

That answer seemed outrageous to Miguel. Did Hawk have a single bone in his body that regulated his impulse control? Did he have any at all? Miguel hadn’t understood what he meant by that that night after the mall fight, and he still didn’t understand now. But he took a deep, calming breath, running his hands through his hair once to compose himself before saying, “Look, I know you went through some bad stuff before -”

“You don’t know shit!” Hawk snapped.

“I _do_ know that it’s not an excuse to make others feel like shit!” Miguel exclaimed heatedly. 

That made Hawk furious. He narrowed his eyes, and his upper lip curled back in a sneer. “_Do_ you know that?” he countered, his voice going cold. “Is that why you hit Sam? Or why you attacked Robby’s weakness at the Tournament? You called the new guys nicknames right along with me.” Miguel’s features hardened as he became defensive over what Hawk was throwing in his face. But he had nothing immediately to say to that list of his own personal failures. So Hawk shook his head. “Like I said, you don’t know shit.”

But Miguel did know shit. He knew Hawk was, for whatever reason, angry. He got that. Miguel could understand anger. He knew how it could wheedle its way into someone’s core and eat away at them without them even noticing, until one day they blew up; usually over something inconsequential and ridiculous. Miguel really got that. Anger was what let him kick the asses of Kyler and his crew. But anger was also what lost him Sam.

Anger was comforting and addictive, like all toxins. And, just like all toxins, it would eventually wreck you from the inside out if you let it.

“We all make mistakes,” Miguel said, after thinking on it for a minute. He’d certainly made his own fair share, he wasn’t going to deny that. And he had his own reasons for making them. But not fixing the mistakes was the worst thing someone could do. Getting stuck in them, like being ankle-deep in cement, refusing to move forward, that was the gravest mistake of all. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to do better. Look, I’m not asking you to like Miyagi-Do. But you need to stop picking fights with them over every little thing. Remember what Sensei said, sometimes Cobra Kai shows mercy.”

“They’re the enemy,” Hawk retorted, his voice still like ice. “And the enemy doesn’t deserve mercy.”

Miguel’s tone got hard now, and he struck back like stone-on-stone, “That’s not what Sensei’s been teaching us.”

“Maybe it was Sensei Kreese who had it right. Maybe Sensei Lawrence’s got it all wrong.”

Hearing Hawk say those words broke Miguel’s composure. He squinted his eyes and shook his head in disbelief at what he’d just heard. What the hell was Hawk’s problem? “You really think Sensei Kreese was right? Really?! Don’t you get it, man? He was nuts. Sensei Lawrence said he’d chew anyone up and spit them out the first chance he got, and that’s exactly what he did!”

“When did he say that?” asked Hawk, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’d been to every class at Cobra Kai since Sensei Lawrence had kicked Sensei Kreese out, and didn’t once remember Sensei Lawrence bringing him up again.

That question cooled Miguel down some again; that was right, Hawk wouldn’t have known about that. “He told me so. In private.” He knew it probably wasn’t his place to repeat what Sensei had told him in privacy, but now that it came spilling out, he couldn’t stop himself.

Especially when Hawk persisted in his stubborn refusal to listen. “Well maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he said, feeling almost blasphemous as the words came out of his mouth. But it irked him to hear Miguel criticize Sensei Kreese like that. Of course he would take Sensei Lawrence at his word, even though his word seemed to mean less and less with each passing day. “Sensei Kreese wanted to make us all into winners.”

“Yeah sure, and look how he treated the losers,” pointed out Miguel. “Look at how he treated _you_.”

Hawk bristled some more at that comment. “What, at Coyote Creek? He was making a point.”

Miguel threw back with, “What point? Why can’t you understand that he was wrong about, like, everything?”

“Sensei Kreese believed in me!” snapped Hawk, fists clenching at his sides.

“No, he didn’t,” rebutted Miguel, shaking his head again. He didn’t say it in anger. He almost sounded sad, to his own ears. It hurt him to tell Hawk that, but he recalled what his Sensei had admitted to him about John Kreese the previous evening. If Sensei Kreese didn’t really believe in Sensei Lawrence, despite how close they had been, how could he have possibly believed in _any_ of them? He couldn’t. And Hawk needed to hear it. “I don’t think he ever did.”

Hawk tried to think of a rebuttal. He wanted to have a comeback, to prove Miguel wrong. But he had none. And a creeping melancholia descended on him like a grey shroud right then as he was forced to confront the truth of what Miguel was telling him. Miguel wouldn’t lie to him over something like this. Miguel didn’t play head games like that. So Sensei Kreese didn’t believe in him either, huh? He’d played him for a fool, and only Miguel had seen through the facade? 

Like a lead weight dropped in water, it sunk in for Hawk: he’d been stupid; he’d been so fucking stupid.

Standing there in the parking lot, his previous fury melting away into a deep gloominess, all he could think to say was, “You want me to take you back home?”

Miguel sighed and rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “That’s probably a good idea.”


	21. Stoop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stoop: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. (used of a raptor) To dive from a height headfirst and with the wings closed, often at great speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Reclining in his bed, Miguel let out a big yawn and stretched his arms over his head some to loosen the muscles in his shoulders and back. Then he reached a hand up to rub at his eyes. They were starting to blur the longer he browsed the Internet on his laptop. He didn’t know why he was so tired that evening. Practice at Cobra Kai hadn’t been anymore intense than it usually was. The only thing that had been out of the ordinary that day was Hawk not being there. 

He’d texted Miguel to let him know he’d have to bike himself to the dojo that day. That was pretty unusual; Hawk hadn't missed a class since he had to get rabies shots. But Miguel figured he still must have been upset about what he’d told him the previous day, and needed some time to cool off. He’d shot Hawk a text about it, asking whether or not he wanted to talk, but he hadn’t replied. And Miguel took the hint not to pry.

Rubbing his hands down his face, Miguel popped his headphones out of his ears and shifted off the bed, strolling out of his bedroom into the kitchen. With his mother at work and his Ya-Ya taking a nap, he figured he’d be on his own when it came to dinner. So, not feeling up to putting any effort into making something high maintenance, he reached into the cabinet and pulled the peanut butter jar out. Then he grabbed a couple slices of bread and made himself a quick sandwich. 

After pouring a glass of orange juice, Miguel sat down at the table and took a bite from his sandwich. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked on any updates on Instagram while he chewed. A bright smile crossed his lips when he watched a video Tory had posted of Aisha at the roller rink, a compilation of all the times she’d fallen down. But it ended on them laughing together, so it seemed to be in good-natured fun. 

The sudden sound of glass smashing outside made his head jerk up. Setting his phone and food down, Miguel hurried over to the door and cracked it open to take a peek. His brows furrowed to the bridge of his nose when he spotted the back of a figure standing outside Sensei Lawrence’s apartment door.

“Flip the script, Sensei? How ‘bout you flip _this_?” the figure said, holding up a hand to extend his middle finger at the door.

Placing the voice immediately, Miguel rushed outside. “Hawk?” He almost didn’t recognize him standing from behind. His red hair wasn’t styled up in his usual mohawk. Instead, it was down, just a regular undercut, nothing special outside of its dye job. His face was flushed pink and his eyes were dark and heavy when he turned around to look at Miguel as he darted up to his side.

“Go away, man,” demanded Hawk, squaring his shoulders back; the effect was lessened, however, by how off-balance he was, how he swayed as he moved. “This is between me and Sensei.”

Miguel assessed the situation quickly. He spotted the shattered Coors bottle on the ground, pieces scattered by the door of Sensei Lawrence’s apartment. Then he looked over and saw Hawk’s car parked close by, a couple more brown bottles on the hood. How long had Hawk been here? At least that indicated he’d probably boozed up at the complex, and hadn’t driven there inebriated. Why hadn’t he just come and told Miguel he was there?

Judging by the number of bottles, including the one currently in Hawk’s hand, Miguel figured he must’ve had about four or five beers in him at that moment. Completely shit-faced. “Sensei’s not here,” he told Hawk, noting the absence of Sensei Lawrence’s car in the parking lot. His nose crinkled as he said it. He was close enough to smell the alcohol now.

Hawk scoffed. “Pfft, figures,” he mumbled before taking a drink from the bottle.

“You been drinking a lot?” asked Miguel calmly, despite knowing the answer to a question so blindingly obvious. No use getting angry and flipping out over it, though. That wouldn’t help the situation. Best just to keep as composed as possible, given the circumstances.

Hawk raised the bottle in his hand again and took another big swig from it, his eyes not leaving Miguel’s as he did so. “Maybe,” he answered after swallowing.

Miguel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking about how to handle this. He recalled that night at the canyon party, when he’d also gotten shit-faced and made an ass of himself. Thankfully his friends had been there to help him after the altercation with Sam and Robby, taking care of him until he was sober enough to go back home to his mom and grandma, so he didn’t get in trouble with them at least. He could return the favor now.

Forcing a half-hearted smile on the corners of his lips, Miguel reached out and wrapped a hand over one of Hawk’s shoulders. “Might be time for a little self-care, don’t you think?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Hawk narrowed his eyes and scoffed again. “Self-care’s for pussies!”

No point in trying to get through to him right then. Miguel could imagine how thick the alcoholic fog in Hawk’s brain probably was at the moment. He knew what that was like. So he changed his tactic. Eyeing the bottle in Hawk’s hand, he pointed at it and asked him, “Hey, can I have a drink of that?”

Squinting, Hawk looked at him suspiciously for a minute, like he didn’t trust his intentions. But he yielded, sluggishly holding out the bottle to him. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Miguel took the beer and then immediately tipped the bottle over, pouring the alcohol over the sidewalk, emptying it completely before setting the bottle down on the ground by his feet. He doubted that Hawk had the motor skills necessary now to put up much of a fight over it even if it upset him.

Hawk looked at him like he’d betrayed him. “Dude, really?”

But when Hawk tried staggering over towards his car for another bottle, he lost his balance again and stumbled forward. Miguel caught him before he could fall over. Judging by his heavy-lidded eyes, it looked like the lethargy was setting in. “Come on, buddy,” Miguel told him, pulling one of Hawk’s arms over his shoulders, wrapping his own around Hawk’s ribs to tug him back to his feet. Miguel then led them back into his apartment.

His Ya-Ya was standing there in the kitchen, having just poured herself a cup of tea, and her eyes widened when she saw Miguel lugging Hawk inside. “_What’s going on?_” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “_What in the world happened? Why is he wasted?_”

Trying to navigate them around the counter, Miguel lied, “He’s not wasted, Ya-Ya, he’s just sick.” He felt a pang of guilt in his chest for lying to his grandmother, but he knew this didn’t exactly look good.

He needn’t have bothered fibbing, because Rosa saw right through it. “_I’m not an idiot, Miggy, I know a drunk when I see one. I can smell the alcohol from over here. You need to call his parents, or text them. Call them right now. Let them know._”

“I will, I will,” promised Miguel, although he had no intention of doing that. He knew how he would feel if Hawk ratted him out to his mom for doing something stupid like getting drunk. There was a code among teenagers everywhere, and one of the most absolute and unbreakable of those rules was no snitching to parents. Miguel could very well bet that Hawk’s parents would freak out if they ever got wind of this. “I’m gonna let him sleep it off for a while in my room first.”

Dragging him into the bedroom, Miguel plopped Hawk down unceremoniously on his bed, stomach-down, maneuvering him some so he might at least be a little comfortable. Hawk’s eyes closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Miguel then walked over and grabbed his trashcan from beside the desk and sat it next to his bed. Shaking Hawk’s shoulder to rouse him awake again, he told him, “Trashcan’s right here if you need it. _Don’t_ throw up on my bed.”

Hawk’s eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled against the pillow, “I’m sorry….”

Miguel sighed, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. “Just sleep it off,” he replied.

But Hawk muttered again, “No, I’m sorry. For kissing you that night in the dojo. I never said I was sorry….” The last words managed to be slurred out before his eyes closed again.

“It’s alright, man, I’d say we’re cool,” Miguel reassured him with a bit of a breathy laugh, but he was unsure if Hawk heard what he’d said. He was out like a light, it looked like.

Rosa stood by the doorway watching, a worried expression on her face. “_What happened?_” she asked again when Miguel stepped outside his room.

All Miguel could offer was a shrug and a shake of his head. “I have no clue,” he admitted. He felt completely blindsided, and was at a loss to explain anything. He knew Hawk had been upset over what happened the previous evening, but he never suspected for a second that he’d let it get him this down. But different things bothered different people, he supposed.

“_When he wakes up, make him drink some black coffee_,” his grandmother told him. Giving one last look into his room, she said, “_And let his parents know. I mean it. Now, I’m going to lie back down. Come wake me up immediately if anything else happens._” Miguel nodded, and watched while his Ya-Ya returned to her bedroom.

He then walked to the utility closet and grabbed the broom and dustbin before heading outside. He didn’t want Sensei Lawrence to come home and see the evidence of all of this. After all, how would he explain it to him? So Miguel swept up the broken glass at his door and then collected the beer bottles from Hawk’s car, dumping it all into the recycle bin.

Alternating waves of annoyance and concern hit Miguel like a current while he cleaned things up. Part of him was vexed that Hawk would do something like this, that he would be so irresponsible as to get drunk. But mostly he was worried, because clearly something was wrong, and Miguel didn’t know what it was. The only thing that was clear was that the target of Hawk’s irritation was Sensei Lawrence. But why? What had Sensei Lawrence done wrong?

After he finished, Miguel went back inside, putting the broom and dustbin back into the closet. He let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his hands down his tired face again. Checking on Hawk one more time, confirming he was still asleep, he grabbed his sandwich and juice from the kitchen and laid down on the couch in the living room to finish eating. The whole experience had left him spent.

Miguel absent-mindedly ate the rest of his sandwich, wondering what to do next. How long did it take someone that drunk to sleep it off? One would’ve thought that for as long as he’d known Sensei Lawrence, he would have at least some idea. A quick check on Google with his phone wasn’t much of a help, but the general consensus was it would take at least a couple hours. 

So Miguel turned on the television to unwind for the time being, flipping through the channels until he landed on one playing a movie he liked. It held his attention for half an hour, before his eyelids started getting heavy. He was really tired. He felt like he could melt into that couch, he was so exhausted. So, curling up to get more comfortable, Miguel laid his head on the cushion against the armrest and closed his eyes, intent on just resting them for a few minutes.

Next thing he knew, someone was giving his arm a little shake, stirring him from his rest. “Miggy. Miggy, wake up.” He blinked the sleep from his eyes, raising a hand to rub at them. It was his mother, sitting on the edge of the couch beside him, still in her nurse’s scrubs, looking down at him with a smile that was tinged with barely-concealed concern. “Miggy, what are you doing on the couch?” she asked, gingerly touching his arm again. “I just peeked in your room and saw Hawk asleep. What’s going on?”

Oh God, he must’ve been out of it for a long time if his mom was back home from work. And a quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed that, indeed, he’d been napping for over four hours. Shit. Oh shit, this was bad. “Uh, Hawk wasn’t feeling well, so I let him lay down for a bit. And I guess I must’ve fallen asleep.” His Ya-Ya must have still been asleep, too, if his mother didn’t know what was going on.

Carmen glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Miguel’s bedroom. “Is he alright?” The nurse in her, again. Miguel knew she would instantly spot the signs of intoxication if she looked at the situation more closely. She dealt with drunks every day at the hospital. 

“I’ll go check on him,” volunteered Miguel quickly, standing himself up from the couch, massaging the fatigue from his face with his hands. He shouldn’t have closed his eyes like that. He’d hoped to get Hawk sobered up before his mother got home, he’d hoped he would have had time to beg his Ya-Ya to please not tell his mother about this. He should’ve set an alarm. Shit.

Hawk was in the same position he’d left him, still passed out on the bed. Flicking on the lights, Miguel walked over and shook his shoulder. “Hawk, get up,” he told him. His nose crinkled again. Something smelled bad. He noted that the trashcan was empty, so Hawk hadn’t thrown up. Nor had he been sick on his pillow. “Get up, man,” he said again, shaking his shoulder harder.

That got Hawk to crack open his eyes. “What? What is it?” he mumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bed. He groaned, closing his eyes again, and raised his hands to massage his temples, which Miguel was sure must have been pounding. Hawk’s fingers then traveled upward from his temples into his hair, and a small gasp parted his lips.

Miguel suspected it might take a little while longer for Hawk to fully wake up. Maybe he should make him drink some coffee, after all. He was probably going to be really embarrassed by how he’d acted when he was completely cognizant. Miguel certainly had been after he’d sobered up after the party. Was there anyone who didn’t regret a bender?

“You got drunk. Do you remember anything?” asked Miguel. Hawk hesitantly nodded and made a move to stand up from the bed. That was when Miguel noticed. His features pinched hard, and his brown eyes got wide in disbelief when he saw the damp spot on his sheets. “Did you…Did you wet the bed?!”

Hawk’s eyes snapped open, those words waking him fully. They darted over to where Miguel was pointing. His hands drifted down to feel around the pockets of his black pants, and his stomach dropped when he realized it was damp down there too. “Oh no,” he muttered, his face contorting in mortification. His frazzled brain pieced together what must have happened. He remembered the drinking. He’d gotten into bed with a full bladder. Oh God, what had he done? Not here. Not in front of Miguel. He shook his head, whispering, “No, no, no….”

Miguel felt his skin getting heated as his composure started to slip. And he thought the worst thing that could happen was that Hawk would throw up in his bed? He was really too inebriated to just get up and go to the bathroom? This was how he repaid Miguel for trying to take care of him? “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, his temper beginning to rise. 

Hawk looked at Miguel, blood rushing to his face in debilitating shame, then he tore his eyes away. What could he say? He didn’t want Miguel to see him like this. His nostrils flared as he took shallow breath after shallow breath to try and calm himself. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the open door. He needed to get out. He needed space. He needed to get away from this. So he tried to run.

But Miguel wouldn’t let him go. He reached out and grabbed Hawk’s shoulders and yanked him back around, looking him in the face and saying, “No, you’re not leaving until I get some answers!” Hawk owed him that, at least. He didn’t get to run away from this. That wasn’t the Cobra way.

Hawk scowled. Gritting his teeth, he tried to shove Miguel off of him, but Miguel just held onto his arms tighter. “Let go of me!” shouted Hawk. Miguel needed to get out of his way before he exploded. 

The two scuffled there in the bedroom, Hawk pushing against anywhere he could get his hands on, Miguel gripping Hawk’s shirt in an iron hold to keep him from slithering away, neither one letting up or surrendering. And the sounds of their struggles and shouting brought Carmen running to the room. “What’s going on?” she demanded to know, her face full of shock and worry. She reached out to pull the boys apart.

Only through the intervention of his mother did Miguel stop, releasing his grip. And as soon as he let go, Hawk bolted. He dashed into the hallway, almost stumbling over his feet when he dodged to avoid colliding into Rosa, who stood just outside the living room area. He caught her look of distress, and his face burned even more. Now Miguel’s whole family was going to know. 

He didn’t stop until he ran out the door and staggered down the sidewalk. He hadn’t had a plan, and it only registered to Hawk then that he couldn’t drive as he was now. He probably wouldn’t even make it out of the parking lot before he ran into something. His faculties wouldn’t allow it, he was past the tipping point. He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t fight. He was stuck.

Gripping at his hair with his hands, Hawk leaned his back against the side of the building and slid down until he was sitting on the sidewalk, drawing his knees up to bury his face in them. His heart was still racing inside his ribcage, and his skin had started to shiver in the cool night air. He felt so exposed, so helpless. He hated that feeling, more than anything in the world. He wished he could just disappear.

Someone sat next to him. He cracked open an eye to see who it was. Miss Diaz.

Inside the apartment, Miguel finished collecting his sheets and putting them in the laundry basket like his mother told him to do, and then he went to the open door to look outside. His mom was sitting beside Hawk. At first she reached a hand out to place comfortingly on his back, but after a couple seconds she drew it back. She was speaking to him, but too softly for Miguel to hear anything.

After some time, his mother stood up and walked over to him, telling him, “Bring me my phone, it’s in my purse. I’m calling his parents.”

Nodding, Miguel did as he was instructed. His previous incensed temper cooled while he went into the living room to dig his mother’s phone out of her purse. He should have listened to his Ya-Ya and called the Moskowitzes when she’d told him to. That would have been the responsible thing to do. His mother was going to be disappointed in him once she knew he hadn’t done so when he had the chance. “Here, Mom,” he said, handing it to her at the door.

Carmen found the number in her contacts and dialed. “Hello? Hi, yes, this Carmen Diaz, Miguel’s mother….”


	22. Cope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cope: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. To trim or otherwise administer medical care to a raptor's beak or talons.  
2\. To face and deal with responsibilities, problems, or difficulties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

His Ya-Ya gave him a disappointing look at the breakfast table that morning, in-between buttering her slices of toast. Miguel supposed he deserved that, for ignoring what she had told him to do. And he couldn’t help but feel ashamed for it, too. He had a sinking suspicion she was going to drag him to confessional the next Sunday morning for this one. It wasn’t like he’d meant to do anything wrong. He always tried to do the right thing, whenever he could. But sometimes even the champ could screw up.

When his mother sat down with her bowl of oatmeal, Miguel swallowed the spoonful he’d taken of his and told her for what had to be the fourth time, “Sorry again, Mom. About last night.” When he’d apologized to her the previous night, all she’d done was give him a sad smile, each time, which somehow made him feel even worse. He would take being grounded over a look like that.

“I’m not mad at you, Miggy,” she said, pouring herself a glass of juice. “And I’m not mad at Hawk, either. You’re teenagers, I expected you would eventually do something you’d regret. I’m just glad nobody was hurt. But what I _am_ upset about is that you didn’t feel like you could tell me the truth. If you ever find yourself in a situation like that, you should come to me, or call me if I’m not here. Yes, even if you’re worried that you’ll get in trouble for it.”

Miguel had nothing to say in his defense. “Next time anything happens, I will,” he promised. He didn’t like the thought of becoming the sort of kid who kept big things from his mom and grandma. Sure, he’d fibbed and lied plenty of times growing up, to keep out of trouble. But he was almost a man now. It was time he started acting more like one. He wanted to be the sort of man his mom, Ya-Ya, and Sensei Lawrence could be proud of.

The three of them ate in silence for a while. Miguel checked his cellphone again to see if Hawk had replied to any of the texts he’d sent that morning. Nothing yet. So he typed out another one: _hey man you coming to CK today?_ That was good, he thought to himself, just try to make things normal again. Yeah. Normal. Right.

Carmen looked beside her at Rosa and asked, “Mom, do you mind washing Miguel’s sheets today? The hospital called and asked me to come in early, I’ll be leaving here in ten minutes.”

Rosa sighed with a roll of her eyes, but said, “_I suppose if I don’t they’ll stink up the place._”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Miguel volunteered. He supposed that was appropriate enough punishment. Might also help get him back in his Ya-Ya’s good graces quicker. “I got time before class.”

That made his mother smile, and this time it wasn’t so sad. “Alright. And while we’re on that subject, while there’s not a lot I can tell you, as a nurse, I will say he didn’t do that intentionally. He wouldn’t have been able to simply get up to use the bathroom, either. Remember when you were a little boy? Remember the accidents? Do you understand?”

Miguel’s cheeks warmed up some in embarrassment, recalling those unpleasant memories from his childhood; he hadn’t thought about those nights since he was six. But he nodded to show that he understood. “Yeah.”

It didn’t surprise Miguel that Hawk didn’t end up showing to practice at Cobra Kai that day, either, and he still hadn’t responded to his texts by the time class finished. So next he tried calling his phone directly. After the dial tone, it went to voicemail without an answer. “Hey, it’s Miguel,” he said on the message, “don’t know if you’ve seen my texts. If you get this, call me back. I promise I’m not mad. Just want to make sure things are okay.”

It wasn’t until Miguel biked home that a thought crossed his mind: maybe the reason Hawk wasn’t answering his calls was for the same reason Sam hadn’t that one day; maybe his parents had taken his phone away, too. Hawk was most definitely in the shit with his parents, and parents loved taking away electronics as punishment; that’s definitely what his own mother would have done in the same scenario. That would be the best conclusion to make, rather than play the game of what-if in his head and come to much worse conclusions instead. 

So Miguel decided to be proactive. Rather than get off his bike at the apartments, he kept going and pedaled all the way to Encino.

Mrs. Moskowitz was the one who opened the door once he got to their house and knocked. She definitely looked like someone who had had a troubling night, with her haggard face and tired eyes, but she was still warm as they exchanged pleasantries. “Is Hawk here?” Miguel asked her. “Can I talk with him?”

Hawk’s mother appeared hesitant. She had that same expression on her face that his own mom got whenever she’d grounded him and was keeping him away from something he wanted. “Eli’s not supposed to be receiving any guests for now,” she explained. “But, considering the circumstances, for you we can make an exception. Just try to keep it brief, alright?” Miguel nodded and followed her into the house.

Inside his room, Hawk sat cross-legged on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, combing through a book that was laid opened in front of him. He was still in his pajamas, and his hair was down. Miguel still wasn’t used to seeing him look like that. But he didn’t comment on his appearance as he sat down at the foot of the bed. Instead, he just formed a little smile on the corners of his mouth and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” returned Hawk. He glanced at Miguel for a brief moment before looking back down at his fumbling hands in his lap. “If you’ve been trying to reach me, my parents took my phone away, just so you know. They also took my laptop.”

“I figured,” said Miguel. At least his gut feeling didn’t let him down there. He’d learned from that mistake. Slumping his shoulders some, he pulled his own legs into a more comfortable cross-sitting position on the bed and asked Hawk, “Is it bad?”

Hawk nodded, keeping his eyes down. “Yeah. Really bad. They’re talking about making me quit Cobra Kai. For real, this time.” Those words made Miguel’s insides twist into a pretzel, and the small smile on his face melted right off. “They’re really upset. They blame Sensei for what happened, they said he’s a bad influence, since he drinks around us. I tried telling them it had nothing to do with that, but they won’t listen.”

Miguel didn’t know what else to say, other than, “I’m sorry.” Even though he had just promised his mother at the table that morning that he would be better going forward, it still upset him that he had fallen asleep. If he hadn’t done that, maybe he could have gotten Hawk sobered up and out of the apartment before his mother got home. Then Hawk’s parents never would have needed to find out what happened, and Hawk wouldn’t be on the brink of being forced into leaving Cobra Kai.

“It’s not your fault,” Hawk assured him. With the tiniest of strained smirks, he added, “I’m the one who made an ass of myself, right?”

Miguel returned the grin, even though he didn’t feel the least bit jovial after hearing the news from Hawk. “A little bit, yeah. But it happens. And look, about what happened last night? I left a message on your phone about it, but just so you know, I’m not mad, not anymore. Sorry for getting upset about…you know. It’s not something you can control, is it?”

Hawk shrank into his shoulders a little. “No. But I’m sorry that it happened.” His features became guarded, but his embarrassment could be detected in the way his ears flushed pink. He still felt like crawling into a hole and dying over it. He would have rather the entire student body at school find out about it than Miguel. Especially that way. “Listen, about…_that_ thing? Please don’t tell anyone.”

Miguel shook his head. “No, of course not, man,” he swore to him, reaching across to give him a fist bump. “Promise I won’t.”

“Thanks,” muttered Hawk, returning the gesture.

It got uncomfortably quiet between them for the next few minutes. Miguel didn’t want to linger on that subject anymore than he assumed Hawk would want to. He could only imagine how embarrassing it must have been, living with a problem like that. So Miguel decided to switch gears. “You want to talk about it?” he offered. “I mean, not about _that_, but about what happened before it?” He certainly had his own set of questions he would like to have answered, if Hawk was feeling up to it. 

Rubbing his arm, Hawk shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted. “But I guess maybe we should, huh?” He owed Miguel that much, after he’d taken care of him, didn’t he? But he didn’t really have an explanation on the ready. He’d just been weak, was all, there was no other way he’d put it. He had slipped, and now he was paying for it. “I don’t know why I let it get to me. I was just being stupid.”

He’d been stupid a lot lately.

“Why are you having such a problem with what Sensei has been teaching?” asked Miguel, fumbling with the comforter under his hands to give them something to do.

Hawk’s eyes got hard. “Because what Sensei Kreese said makes more sense. Or at least it did. Sensei Lawrence talks a big game about showing mercy sometimes. All this shades of grey talk, it’s confusing, alright? Maybe you get it, but I don’t. No one’s ever shown any mercy to me, so why do they deserve any in return? I bet Sensei Lawrence doesn’t have an answer to that, does he?” That was why Hawk had no problem with Sensei Kreese ordering Miguel to finish him off at Coyote Creek, because at least Sensei Kreese practiced what he preached. He didn’t suddenly go weird and soft like Sensei Lawrence.

But to learn that Sensei Kreese had never believed in him at all? Hawk really thought Sensei Kreese had liked him. He’d acted like he did. Why was it that Miguel saw through the exterior of a man who seemed like he believed in his students and was shaping them all into winners, right down to the manipulator underneath? Why hadn’t Hawk seen it?

Hawk didn’t know, but it made him feel like an idiot. And he was tired of being toyed with all the time. What was it about him that made others feel like they could play with him like he was some sort of helpless mouse?

“I showed you mercy,” retorted Miguel. Hawk had nothing to say to that, he just looked back down at his hands. Chewing his bottom lip tentatively for a few hesitant seconds, Miguel next asked the question that had weighed heaviest on his mind from the previous evening. The one he was most interested in knowing. The one he was most afraid to ask, because he feared the answer. But fear did not exist, he reminded himself. “Do you…Do you hate Sensei?”

“No,” answered Hawk, not even knowing himself whether that was a truth or a lie. Maybe it was somewhere in-between. Maybe it was one of those grey areas Sensei Lawrence had been going on about.

Miguel didn’t believe that answer. “Really?” he pressed him, arching a skeptical eyebrow. He’d heard what Hawk had said, he’d cleaned up the bottle Hawk had thrown at Sensei Lawrence’s door. Clearly there was some animosity there.

Shifting uncomfortably from where he was sitting, Hawk tried explaining, “Sensei’s the one who helped me shed my loser skin. He made me into a badass. Now nobody fucks with me anymore.” Sensei Lawrence was the one who gave him his name, the one who transformed him into Hawk.

“You weren’t a loser before,” Miguel pointed out, knitting his brows while he listened attentively. 

A sharp laugh escaped from Hawk at that. “I think Sensei would disagree with you there. But I get it. He was right. As soon as I flipped the script, I got respect, just like he said I would. Nobody liked me when I was just Eli. But everybody respects the Hawk.” Anytime Sensei Lawrence pointed out a flaw in him, Hawk had been sure to fix it fast, to the best of his ability, so he could live up to the alpha image Sensei had set for them. Even with things he had misgivings about, Hawk still did it, because when it came to flipping the script, it was all-or-nothing, you went hard or you went home. Nobody had said it was supposed to be easy, even if Sensei made it seem simple enough.

Hawk had had no choice but to put up a wall around the old Eli, around all of his old interests and quirks and insecurities. He had to cut himself off from all of that. It was the only way he could be safe. Now? He felt so lost. He felt like he didn’t even know who he was anymore. But he couldn’t tell any of that to Miguel.

Miguel chewed on his thumbnail this time, remembering when Sensei Lawrence had chewed Eli out in front of the class for speaking up to him over his mean nickname. Sensei hadn’t been his best self that day in the dojo, a fact that Miguel had had to point out to him. He knew Eli had taken Sensei’s advice to heart, that much had been obvious when he’d walked back into the dojo with his new mohawk. But now it was starting to sink in just how hard that message must have hit.

This was all starting to make Miguel confused and uneasy. It made him feel like his head was under water, that he was in the deep end. He was the one who opened the can of worms, and now he felt completely in over his head. “I liked you when you were just Eli,” he said simply. “I mean, I like you now, too. Either way’s cool with me.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t think of what would be the right thing to say at the moment.

The corner of Hawk’s mouth curled in a sad smirk. “Then you’re the only one.” Miguel was maybe the only person on the planet who genuinely liked him as both Eli and Hawk. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter,” he said, snapping his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. His body drooped, and he struggled to get his lip to stop quivering before he continued, “Be-Because I’m not gonna be in Cobra Kai anymore.”

He didn’t want to lose Cobra Kai. Even with as confusing as things had gotten there lately with Sensei Lawrence’s new lessons that summer, Cobra Kai still meant more to Hawk than anything. His whole life was there, and now his parents wanted to take that life away from him. He’d tried being vigilant and keeping it safe from their overprotective watchful eyes, but one screw-up and now everything was ruined and everything he’d built for himself was about to be snatched away.

Miguel longed to know what to do. He hated being put into situations he didn’t know how to fix, where nothing in his Cobra Kai training could help him. He didn’t want Hawk to be pulled from the dojo, and he scrambled his pragmatic brain to conjure up a solution. He couldn’t think of any, though. He hadn’t been able to convince his own mother to let him back when she took him out. There was no way he’d be able to talk the Moskowitzes out of it. “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something,” was the only vague promise he could make. He wished his words didn’t sound so empty. Defeat did not exist.

Taking a couple deep breaths, Hawk tried to calm himself back down. He couldn’t lose himself again in front of Miguel. And, even though he knew Miguel was only trying to help him feel better, and that he was just as powerless as he was against the will of his parents, he still wanted to believe him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Miguel crawled forward on the bed to close the space between them, angling his head to the side slightly, parting his lips as his hands wrapped around Hawk’s shoulders. He couldn’t offer words of solace, but he could offer comfort.

Hawk filled in the remaining gap and pressed their lips together, cradling Miguel’s jaw to draw him in closer. He kissed him feverishly and desperately, trying to prove to Miguel that despite how much of a fuck-up he could sometimes be, he still wanted this, he didn’t want this taken away, too; he wanted him, and he wanted to show him that in a way he would never be able to express with words.

A low moan escaped Miguel’s mouth between each hungry kiss that he returned. His hands traveled up from Hawk’s shoulders to run through his hair for the first time, that sensation having been denied to him before previously. It was longer than he’d expected it would be, and it was easy to wrap his fingers in it and give just a little pull.

But that feeling of Miguel’s hands in his hair made Hawk’s bottom lip start trembling again, making him break the kiss. He turned his shoulder and closed his eyes with a grimace. He still didn’t want Miguel to see him like this, all weak and pathetic.

Miguel pulled back, wrapping his hands around his arms like he was suddenly cold. He'd just wanted to help. But it was becoming clear that this was bigger than him.

Mrs. Moskowitz offered to drive him to Reseda, but Miguel insisted on biking. He wanted the opportunity to reflect more on everything. It gave him enough time to come to a conclusion about what should be done. So when he arrived back home, he walked over to the apartment across from his own and knocked on the door. “Hey,” answered Sensei Lawrence when he opened it and saw who was standing outside. Before Miguel could get a word in, his Sensei held up the phone in his other hand. “Hey, since you’re here, you said these smartphones can play music right? How do you set that up?”

“Uh, yeah, they can. I can help you with that,” Miguel offered, putting his hands in his pockets as he took a step inside. “But I actually came over to ask about Hawk.”

“Yeah, where’s he been the last couple days?” asked Sensei Lawrence, still fiddling with his phone while he strolled over to go sit on the couch, Miguel following behind him. Propping his feet up on the table in front of it, Sensei said, “He better be sick with the flu or something, because I don’t want to have to spend a lot of time helping him catch up if he’s just being lazy.” It came out brusquely, but Miguel was well-versed enough in Sensei Lawrence’s language by now. He knew that meant Sensei was, in his own way, starting to get worried.

Miguel sat down beside him, leaning his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands together. He hesitated to say what he needed to say, worried he was going to stick his foot in it if he did. But that really didn’t matter right now, did it? So, looking up at his instructor, he said, “Sensei, I really think you should have a talk with him.”


	23. Reclaim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reclaim: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. To train a hawk after a period of liberty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

“Hi, I’m Johnny Lawrence, the Sensei of Cobra Kai Karate. I’d like to talk, if that’s alright.” The smile on his face felt strained as he said those words at the door to the Moskowitz residence that morning in Encino. He could already feel his palms beginning to sweat from where his hands were stuffed inside the pockets of the nicest pair of jeans he could find in his closet to wear. Between them and his button-down shirt, Johnny felt overdressed. But Miguel had suggested he should dress to impress. Probably the best call.

The apprehensive faces of Hawk’s parents stared back at him from behind the opened door. The mother had a pleasant enough appearance, in Johnny’s opinion, even with that guarded expression. She was probably the one he’d have to get through to. The dad looked kind of dweebish. He was the one who initiated pleasantries. “Simon Moskowitz,” he introduced himself, his tone a touch curt but extending his hand out as he said his name. At least he had a firm enough handshake.

“I’m Ruth,” said the mother next, shaking his hand. “Please, come inside.”

Miguel had warned Johnny that the Moskowitzes were “helicopter parents.” Then he explained to him what that term meant, since Johnny had told him he had no idea what those were. Once he gave a detailed description, several things started making more sense. Johnny had long since suspected that Hawk had been handled with kid-gloves his whole life, and it sounded like his suspicions were right on the mark.

That blew Johnny’s mind, after Miguel explained it to him. He already thought the parents nowadays were too coddling and over involved with their kids, but some went even a step farther and apparently just didn’t know when to cut the damn umbilical cord already. But then that brought up memories of his own inadequacies, which gave Johnny pause. Robby sure probably would’ve preferred if he’d been a little more coddling and over involved when he’d had the chance.

The Moskowitzes invited him to sit down at the kitchen table, where they commenced with the rest of the small talk. Hawk’s mother gave him a bottle of water to be a good host. Johnny smiled and accepted the drink, although he didn’t open it at first. _So far, so good_, he thought. At least they hadn’t slammed the door in his face. He was here on a mission, and this had to go well. Be on his best behavior, Miguel had told him. He probably only had one shot at this.

Johnny made it a point never to deal with parents and/or legal guardians if he didn’t have to, for insurance reasons. The only parent he was interested in interacting with was Miguel’s mother, Carmen. He was _very_ interested in the kind of one-on-one parent-teacher conferences they could have together, especially in the dojo. Tossing that loser Australian (or was he British?) boyfriend of hers around the previous week for threatening to use her had been the best move he ever made, even if he did have to show him mercy. Not only did it teach that wangless scumbag a lesson, but he also had a date with Carmen to look forward to in a couple days. He couldn’t wait.

He had to clear his head of that pleasant thought. He wasn’t dealing with that particular parent right now. The Moskowitzes? Johnny would have been perfectly content if they’d remained just names at the bottom of the signed checks Hawk gave him at the end of each month.

“Sensei?”

Johnny glanced over his right shoulder to see Hawk take a step out of the hallway into the kitchen. The kid stared at him with wide eyes, and his brows were furrowed in confusion. Hawk ran a hand self-consciously through his undercut before rubbing the back of his neck. The two of them shared a look, but before Johnny could think of whether or not he should say anything to him yet, Simon beat him to it. “Eli, go back to your room. We’re having a discussion with Sensei Lawrence.”

Hawk opened his mouth, as if to raise an objection, but seeing the stern stares of his parents leveled at him, he did what he was told and trudged back down the hallway to his bedroom. Everyone waited until they heard his door close before continuing.

Returning his eyes to the kid’s parents, Johnny cleared his throat and cut to the chase. “So it was brought to my attention that you’re thinking about pulling your son from my class.”

From where he sat on his left, Simon frowned, his face pinched in irritation. Johnny could tell from that hard glare that he was being studied, that Hawk's father was trying to find out just what sort of man he was. “Do you know the circumstances behind our decision? Did you hear about Eli’s drinking?” he asked pointedly. 

“Uh, I heard a few things, yeah.” Miguel had given him a pretty decent idea about what all had happened. Sounded like the kid had cracked and gotten hammered over it, from what Miguel was willing to admit. Johnny supposed he could empathize with the Moskowitzes some there. When the school had called him about Robby taking molly, he’d been upset to hear that bit of news. Teenagers did stupid shit, but as parents that didn't mean they wanted to see _their_ kid doing it.

On Johnny's right, Ruth moved her hands on the table, wringing them, and told him point-blank, “Frankly, we’re really troubled by what’s been going on lately with Eli. He’s been so moody and withdrawn, he gets angry so easily, and he doesn’t come to us with his problems anymore.”

That sounded like a normal teenage boy to Johnny’s ears. “Not to be insensitive,” he said, “but what does that have to do with him taking lessons at Cobra Kai?” He wasn’t the kid’s therapist, nor was he there to serve as the mediator between him and his parents. Seemed like private family shit, what did he have to do with any of that?

Hawk’s mother narrowed her eyes, and her tone got sharp when she responded back with, “Because, Sensei Lawrence, he never used to act this way before he started taking karate at _your_ dojo. Things may not have always been easy for him, but he didn’t go around starting fights and drinking beer before he met you.” There was a heavy weight of accusation to her words. Johnny could tell by her words and the open anger on her face that she was blaming him. Wasn’t the first time a student's mother did that.

Before Johnny could give any retort, Hawk’s father cut in. “I’m going to level with you,” said Simon, crossing his arms over his chest. “My wife and I have been concerned about your influence ever since we found your criminal record online. We read about your drinking habits, and your violent outbursts of temper. And, to put it mildly, we didn’t like it.”

Johnny scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, furrowing his brows. “That’s on the Internet?” Well shit, that was embarrassing. Miguel could have warned him about that.

“Do you take any responsibility for the influence you have on your students?” Ruth demanded to know. “You’re their teacher, aren’t you? You’re supposed to set the example. What sort of example are you setting?”

Her words cut Johnny to the bone. “Anytime I see behavior from my students I think is out of line, I try to correct it," he said in his defense, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. He had corrected Hawk’s behavior, several times. Or at least he thought he had. He’d assumed he had a handle on the kid, but apparently not. “When I opened Cobra Kai, I made a point to never let my kids go down the wrong path. Look, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past, I’m not here to give you any excuses. And I’m on a learning curve with this teaching thing. I know that's probably not what you want to hear, and it’s probably a pretty stupid thing to admit out loud, but it's the truth.”

Neither the kid’s father nor his mother said anything. First they glanced across the table at each other, like they hadn't expected him to come out and say something like that. After that they looked silently back in his direction. He figured they were expecting him to say something more. So he did.

Pinching his brows to the bridge of his nose, Johnny opened and closed his mouth three times before he found his words. “I wasn’t paying close enough attention, and I let him slip through the cracks. You guys have a right to be upset about that, I’m not denying it. But I want to fix this, I want to be the one to put him back on the right path again. I know you probably don’t have a lot of reason to trust me right now, but I’m asking for another chance. If you let him back into Cobra Kai, I won’t let him fall through the cracks again.”

The parents were still quiet at the end of his speech. Simon looked at his wife for a long minute, until she gave him a small nod. “We’ll give it a consideration,” he told Johnny as a soft answer.

Giving a firm nod in return, Johnny said, “Thanks.”

“Do you have an Instagram, Sensei Lawrence?” asked Ruth, from what sounded like out of left field to Johnny. “We like to keep a close watch over Eli’s social media accounts, and we’ve noticed he doesn’t follow you. Do you have one?”

Johnny briefly wondered if the Moskowitzes would find it funny that the first time he heard about Instagram, he thought it was the new street name for cheap weed. But then he thought twice about that, saying instead, “Nah, I’m too old school for that. I don’t know much about that hash brown stuff, I leave that to my students. But I do have a smartphone.” He pulled it out of his back pocket to show as proof. “And I did set up a profile on the Facebook.”

Hawk’s mother smiled. For some reason, it looked almost threatening. “Great. We’ll send you a friend request.”

Rather than admit there was pretty much nothing posted on his profile as of yet, and that he barely knew how to use the app, Johnny just returned the smile and said, “Lookin’ forward to it.” As they all stood up from their chairs, Johnny then asked them, “Do you think I could speak to Hawk, er Eli, for a few minutes? Preferably in private?”

The Moskowitzes shared another hesitant glance with one another, but both ended up agreeing to the request. They said he could talk with Hawk on the balcony. They could shut the glass door, but the blinds would remain open, the parents said, so they could keep an eye on things. Johnny practically itched to make a comment about cutting the umbilical cord before they ended up strangling the kid with it, but he was good and kept his opinion to himself while they went to get Hawk.

Sitting down in one of the whicker chairs on the balcony, Johnny finally opened the bottle of water the Moskowitzes had given him, while Hawk sat in the chair across from his. He suddenly felt parched. Taking a swig, Johnny collected his thoughts, thinking about how he should go about this. He eyed the way Hawk sat in his chair, how uncomfortable he looked. Things were so much easier with Miguel. “So I hear you got kicked out of an Applebee’s,” he told him, finally breaking the ice.

“Yes, Sensei,” responded Hawk with a single nod. So Miguel had told Sensei Lawrence about that, huh? That made sense. Miguel had to give Sensei some context to get him to come out there and try to talk his parents out of pulling him from Cobra Kai.

“Been there,” commented Johnny, taking another big gulp of water. Hawk just continued to look at him. So Johnny went on. “Look, a while back you came to me asking why I kicked Sensei Kreese out, and I told you to beat it. That wasn’t completely fair, so I’m gonna answer your question now, alright?”

Hawk shook his head and frowned. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Sensei.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny arched an eyebrow and took another sip of his drink. “How you figure?”

“Miguel already told me Sensei Kreese didn’t really believe in any of us,” explained Hawk, slumping some in his chair. His eyes fell to where his hands rested on his knees. “I was just too stupid to see it. What Sensei Kreese said, about how life was about either winning or losing, it made a lot of sense to me. I didn't see what was so bad about that, or why you’d kick him out over it.”

Johnny sighed once and leaned further back in his own chair, reaching a hand around to rub the back of his neck. “You’re not stupid,” he rebutted. “And listen, Hawk, that bullshit about only being a winner or a loser is just that, a hot, steaming pile of fresh cow turds. That’s not how I run my dojo, which is the only thing that matters.”

Hawk looked back up at him, and tried to argue, “But, Sensei-”

“Let me tell you a story,” said Johnny, cutting him off. “It was the All-Valley of ’84, it was me versus LaRusso in the finals. Sensei Kreese already had one of my buds act dishonorably and try to knock LaRusso out of commission with an illegal move. Then, during my fight, Kreese told me to exploit that weakness. And I did. So if you’re still wondering why I was so hard on you and Miguel after the Tournament, that’s why. I saw you guys repeating past mistakes, and I don’t want you making the same mistakes we did back then.”

Hawk mulled over that. It would have been nice if Sensei Lawrence had just pulled them aside and told them that in private, rather than putting them on blast in front of the entire class. But at least now he had an explanation that made some sense. No confusing metaphors this time. “Yes, Sensei.”

After another chug of his water, Johnny continued, “And in the end, it didn’t even matter that I showed no mercy, because I still lost. But even if I won, I don’t think it would have felt earned. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to win. Chicks love champs, after all. But I started to figure maybe second place wasn’t the end of the world. Sensei Kreese didn’t agree. He broke my trophy in front of my face, told me I was nothing, that I was a loser.” He paused a few seconds for another sip, to blink his eyes back into focus from how they’d gotten distant. Then he added, “After he said that, he choked me out, right there in the parking lot.”

Hawk’s eyes got wide, and the color drained from his cheeks. “He what?”

“He lost his shit when I called him out on the fact that he was acting nuts,” explained Johnny, crossing his leg over his knee, trying hard not to get too sucked into the memory. The kid didn’t need to see him get all emotional over it. “He put me in a chokehold and tried to kill me. I’m not exaggerating on that last part. His attitude was always no mercy for losers, because losers did not exist in his dojo. If nothing else, he was a man of his word.”

Shrinking some into his shoulders, Hawk felt like his stomach had dropped. Suddenly he was nauseous. “Why did you let him come back?” he asked.

Color returned to Hawk’s face, and it was red. The kid was looking at him like he’d betrayed him. Johnny supposed, in a way, he had. All his students trusted him, but he’d left them with a man who wigged out over coming in second place. If he could take it back, he would. “He really made me believe that he’d changed,” Johnny answered. “I fucked up, don’t know what else to tell you. Even a badass Sensei like me can screw up from time to time. Hard to believe, huh?” He took a giant swig from the bottle, finishing off the rest of the water in three gulps.

He’d hoped that admission might get the kid to loosen up, but Hawk still had that same look on his face, equal parts hurt and anger.

So Johnny went on. “But John Kreese is a good con-man. Guy can read you like a book, he looks for your insecurities, that’s how he gets to you. So keep that in mind when you beat yourself up for falling for it. And I knew if I let him stay in the dojo after how he acted at Coyote Creek, eventually he’d end up doing the same thing to one of you later what he did to me. Because his style of Cobra Kai is a path that leads to a dead end. Don’t forget that. So you understand now, why I kicked him out?”

Hawk nodded again. “Yes, Sensei.” His face felt warm from the blood rushing to it, kindled by the anger he felt towards Sensei Lawrence for bringing someone so dangerous into the dojo and not telling any of them. But deeper inside, behind that fury, he also felt the stirring of forgiveness for his Sensei. At least he admitted his mistake now. That had to take a lot from him to do that.

Setting the empty bottle on the whicker table in front of the chairs, Johnny said, “Good. In the future, if things aren’t clear, you can come and ask me. I’ll try and be better about answering.” That rested under the assumption that the kid’s parents would let him come back to Cobra Kai. But Johnny had a feeling that he’d gotten through to them. He hoped he did, anyway. 

The two of them stood up from their chairs. But when Hawk took a step towards the door, Johnny spoke up again. “Oh yeah, and one more thing,” he said, his face contorting in sudden discomfort. He stuck his hands inside his jeans pockets, feeling his palms starting to sweat again. “I know you probably don’t think I know anything about what you’re going through. But I do. I mean, I never had to deal with a freaky lip or anything, babes have always told me I got a great face.”

Hawk reflexively raised a hand to his upper lip, and Johnny knew he’d stuck his foot in his mouth. He hadn’t intended to. Old habits were hard to break.

When the kid opened his mouth to say something, Johnny cut him off again, trying to explain himself better. “I was a skinny little weirdo once, just like you. Sensei Kreese helped me find my inner Cobra, he shaped me into a badass. But sometimes that involved him doing things that maybe weren’t so great. Like sometimes it felt like he hated everything about me, no matter what I did, so I just kept shedding my skin until I became the Cobra he wanted to see. Other times it felt like he was just being an asshole, which made me want to be an asshole, too.” He stopped for a moment, mouth hanging while he tried to summarize his thoughts. He could tell from Hawk’s face that he was thinking hard about what he was hearing. And Johnny wanted to make sure his message was clear. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, sorry about the Lip thing.”

Lowering his hand back down, the faintest smile curled on Hawk’s face, and he perked up some. “Thanks, Sensei,” was all he could think to say.

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Johnny let out a big sigh. “Alright, I gotta head out, I got shit to do. Can’t stay here blabbing with you all day.” But before he went back inside, he reached out and gave his student a couple awkward pats on the shoulder. 

Sensei Lawrence left after that, the Moskowitzes seeing him to the front door. When they went into the living room, Hawk shuffled in behind them, making them pause from where they were about to sit on the couch. Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, Hawk glanced at his parents, seeing the hopeful, expecting expressions come over their faces. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Mom? Dad? Can we talk?” It felt like he hadn’t talked to them in forever.

They both grinned warmly. It looked like his mother’s eyes were glistening when she walked over to cup his face tenderly. “Of course, honey.”


	24. Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strike: verb  
Falconry.  
1\. (used of a falconer) To loosen the braces of a hood preparatory to removing it from the raptor's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's left a kudo/comment!

Miguel took his freshly-washed, faded white gi and haphazardly folded it before packing the uniform into his backpack. After tossing his water bottle in next, he zipped up the bag and set it down on the kitchen table with a morose sigh. He then poured himself a glass of orange juice and took his time drinking it, his mind heavy with the cloudy thoughts he’d been mulling over all afternoon, thoughts that just refused to disperse no matter what he did.

He should’ve felt at least some excitement about it being the last practice before school starting in two days, but mostly Miguel only felt a heavy pang in his chest. He hadn’t had an opportunity to ask Sensei Lawrence yet about how things went yesterday. He supposed he could have either gone over to Sensei’s apartment or called his phone and asked, but Miguel had hoped Sensei Lawrence wouldn’t just leave him hanging, that he might have reached out himself and explained how his talk with the Moskowitzes had gone. 

What if things had gone badly and Sensei just didn’t have the heart to tell him? But that wasn’t really Sensei’s style. If Hawk wasn’t coming back to Cobra Kai, surely Sensei Lawrence would’ve just told him. Miguel guessed he’d find out in class soon enough.

Miguel finished his juice with one more big gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the glass down on the counter just as his mom made her way into the kitchen. His mother passed by him, walking over to grab her lunch from the fridge, saying as she did, “Just a head’s up, Miggy, I’m going on a date tomorrow evening.”

Glancing over his shoulder at her for a second, Miguel smiled. “Nice. What’s his name?” It made him glad to hear his mom was over Graham ghosting her. He’d been worried that experience might have discouraged her from dating again anytime soon, but this was a pleasant surprise. And Miguel made a promise to himself right then that he’d give whoever this new guy was a more thorough assessment than he had the previous one, so his mother wouldn’t be hurt again.

Carmen stopped on her way towards the door to give the back of her son’s head a kiss, promising him, “I’ll tell you who it is if things go smoothly.” Grabbing hold of her purse, she called out before leaving, “Have fun at practice. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After his mother left, Miguel sighed and ate a pop-tart in silence, scrolling through his phone to kill time until he’d need to leave to Cobra Kai shortly. Pics of his friends enjoying their last couple days of summer vacation filled his Instagram feed. How had time flown by so fast? It felt like school had just ended yesterday, and now it was time to go back again. 

And yet, what an eventful summer it had been. A lot had happened. Swallowing the last bite of his pastry, Miguel thought to himself that he wished the season didn’t have to end on such a sour note.

There came a sudden knock on the door. When Miguel opened it, a big grin beamed over his face as his eyes met with Hawk’s. “‘Sup, man? Need a ride?” Hawk asked, his mouth curled in a crooked smile. He had his spiky mohawk styled up again. He looked much better, more confident and less defeated. Miguel knew what that must have meant.

“So Sensei talked your parents into letting you back?” he asked excitedly, reaching out to give Hawk a fist bump. He’d known it would be a gamble, that Sensei Lawrence would either fix the problem completely or make it so the Moskowitzes never let Hawk so much as within sight of Cobra Kai again; but it had been the only idea Miguel could think of. And the gamble had paid off. Of course it would. Sensei Lawrence could be pretty persuasive when he really cared about something.

“Mostly,” Hawk answered. He stuck his hands inside his pockets and watched while Miguel rushed over to grab his backpack from the kitchen table. His grin faltered some as he added, “But they only let up when I agreed that they could make an appointment for me to go see a shrink once a week for a while.”

“A therapist?” asked Miguel for clarification, stepping outside and locking the door behind him. His eyebrows had risen up his forehead at hearing that piece of news.

“Yeah.”

Hawk didn’t sound exactly thrilled at that prospect, nor did he look particularly happy about it. But Miguel just rolled his shoulders with nonchalance and said, “That might not be so bad.” Seeing the skepticism come over Hawk’s features, Miguel ribbed him, saying, “Hey, look at it this way, at least they’re not making you talk to Counselor Blatt.”

Grimacing at the sound of that name, Hawk admitted, “You got a point there. Whatever. It’s no big, right? Probably just gonna be a big waste of time, but at least it gets me back into Cobra Kai.” His mood perked up when Miguel wrapped an arm warmly around his shoulders, and the two of them walked over to where he parked his car.

“I’m surprised they’re still letting you drive,” observed Miguel. “I’m just sayin’, if I’d been if your shoes, my mom probably would’ve cut up my license.”

“Oh, I’m only allowed to drive to here and Cobra Kai, and then back home,” Hawk explained, unlocking the car. “And they’re only letting me have that because _technically_ I didn’t drink and drive. But if my parents find out I’m driving anywhere else, they told me they’ll start tracking my phone. Officially, I’m still grounded for the next two weeks. Between that and school starting up, I guess that puts kind of a crimp on dates for a while.”

Miguel gave him a couple sympathetic pats on the shoulder. “That sucks. But at least they gave you your phone back, so we can always FaceTime. That could still be fun. And, hey, I guess it beats them killing you over the fake ID like you thought they would, right?” He tossed his bag in the backseat on the last question.

A sharp smirk creased the corner of Hawk’s mouth while they both got into the car. “They never found out how I got the beer. I just told them I got some rando frat bro to hook me up,” he said, hooking his seatbelt.

Doing the same, Miguel shook his head. “Haven’t learned your lesson yet, huh?”

“Don’t worry, I’m done with drinking for a while,” Hawk assured him, turning on the ignition. He was done with drinking for a _long_ while. “But I need my ID for whenever I get another tattoo. And you never know when you might need to score some weed. Fake IDs are good for more than just beer, y’know. What? Don’t look at me like that, man, that thing cost me a hundred bucks, I’m not just gonna toss it.” He laughed under his breath when Miguel grinned and reached over to give his shoulder a shove.

Practice went normal, nothing special about it beyond it being the last class before school starting, which all the students complained about before they were brought to attention by their instructor. Sensei Lawrence told them school work had better not give them an excuse to start slacking off with their karate, because he wasn’t going to go easy on them anytime soon.

Some of the other students were curious about Hawk’s previous absences, but all he told them was that he had been sick. After practice, he embellished his story to Aisha and Tory with an exaggerated flair, to make it believable. “Yeah, I ate some bad potato salad that my mom brought to this picnic our synagogue was having that she dragged me to, and it made me puke my guts out. I’m telling you guys, I was aiming for both accuracy and distance by the end of it.”

Tory cocked a sharp eyebrow and tried to raise him one. “Speaking of puking, that reminds me of this time at Valley Fest a couple years ago, my girlfriends and I ate these chili-cheese dogs and then decided to go on the tilt-o-whirl. God, I still feel so bad for those poor bystanders.”

“Wow, are we really having this conversation?” asked Aisha with a disbelieving laugh.

Once he’d finished talking with some of the guys, Miguel walked into the dojo’s office, where Sensei Lawrence was reclined in his chair at his desk, messing with his smartphone. His Sensei glanced at him as he stepped in and asked him, “Hey, how do you turn some of these notifications off? They’re annoying the shit out of me.”

Unable to hold back a smile, Miguel accepted the phone being held out to him. While he tinkered with the settings to turn off the notifications for anything that wasn’t related to system updates or Messenger, he said, “Sensei, I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for taking care of things.” Sometimes Miguel wondered if Sensei Lawrence knew just how much he truly appreciated how he was there for him when he needed his guidance and assistance. He hoped he did.

Locking his fingers behind his head, Sensei Lawrence just leaned further back in his chair, and with a flippant, posturing air he replied, “Yeah, well, I gotta pay the rent, don’t think I’m just playing favorites. But now that I got your boyfriend back, you gonna stop whining and get off my ass?”

Miguel snorted and gave a nod of his head. At least Sensei Lawrence was comfortable enough to joke about it now, in his own usual manner. That was a good thing. “Yes, Sensei,” he responded, handing Sensei Lawrence back his phone.

Outside the office, Hawk looked over at where the other guys were starting to come out of the changing room. He reflected over his thoughts, thinking back to the things Sensei Lawrence had said to him the previous day. Hawk still couldn’t believe some of what he’d told him, most especially how Sensei admitted that he understood how Hawk felt more than he let on. It made Hawk feel a little lighter knowing that. Maybe Sensei Lawrence wasn’t always a jerk just for the sake of being a jerk, after all. 

And, looking over at the other students, that acknowledgement made Hawk begin to rethink some of his own behavior.

He stopped himself from taking a step forward, hesitating. His face hardened at first, embarrassment churning inside him. But then his brow softened some. Hawk took the first step, then another, and he kept walking until he stood beside Mitch, who finished zipping his backpack up. The other boy looked at him with mild apprehension, probably dreading whatever putdown might be in store. And, for the first time, Hawk felt ashamed.

“Yo, Mitch,” he said, “that was a sweet move you pulled against Stingray in class earlier.” Mitch gave an uncertain nod, still looking mistrustfully at him, like this was all leading to some mean-spirited punchline. Hawk supposed his misgivings were fair. He would have to just come out and say it. “Hey look, sorry about calling you Ass-face. And, you know, for giving you so much shit.” 

That apology put Mitch a bit more at ease, although he didn’t completely lose the expression of distrust from his face; Hawk suspected he must have been wondering what exactly brought this on. But Mitch nodded again. “Thanks, man,” he said simply. It was a start, at least. 

Hawk jutted his chin out and said, “See you at school,” before both of them separated, Mitch walking towards the door to catch up with Bert and Kevin, while Hawk headed to the back of the dojo. Miguel was waiting for him in there. “Alright, I told my parents I’m staying for an extra lesson to catch up,” Hawk told him, “and they said I got two hours before I gotta be home.”

Miguel clapped Hawk on the shoulder when he walked onto the mat to join him. “Two hours is plenty. So who’s ready to learn some strong defense?” he asked eagerly, beaming from ear to ear. He’d been excited about this since he’d brought the idea up to Hawk in the first place. Hawk was the sparring partner he enjoyed fighting against the most, and it excited him to think about how much more epic their fights would get once Hawk learned some solid defensive strategies to go along with his relentless offense.

“You just want a chance to show off,” said Hawk with a smirk.

“Heh, you got me there,” agreed Miguel, chuckling lightly under his breath as he gave Hawk a couple pats on the back for encouragement. “Remember, you only get to use defensive moves. No offense at all. It's make or break time, buddy. Also, since I’m being so nice and giving you these extra lessons, you should call me Sensei Diaz.”

Hawk shook his head and emphasized, “I’m _not_ gonna call you Sensei.”

The smile on Miguel's face managed to widen even more. “Aww why not?” he teased. 

“One Sensei’s enough for a while,” responded Hawk. Miguel gave a nod to that. While they took their places on the mat, standing a few feet away from one another, Hawk raised his eyebrows in amusement and noted, “You realize, of course, by teaching me all your tricks, you’ll only be contributing to your own demise when we fight for real next time.”

Miguel snorted and threw his bluff back with, “I’m sorry, who kicked whose ass at Coyote Creek again? Oh, that’s right, I kicked _your_ ass. And no way am I gonna show you _all_ my tricks.” They both got into a fight stance, and Miguel said, “Alright, I’m gonna come at you with a front kick, show me how you’ll block it.”

“Bring it!” dared Hawk. 

So Miguel did. 

He rushed forward on the offensive, and Hawk braced his arms protectively in front of his chest, prepared to absorb the kick, just like Aisha had done that day in class against his own moves. But Miguel faked him out, ducking to his right side and sweeping down to hook his foot behind Hawk’s knee, sending him falling onto his back.

Hawk let out a breathy laugh when Miguel stood over him with a cheesy grin and an extended hand. He accepted his opponent’s help, letting Miguel pull him back up to his feet. “So, you’re a liar,” Hawk observed with a fierce glare.

Shrugging innocently, Miguel pointed out, “You gotta learn to read the other guy’s attacks, you know they’re not just gonna tell you what’s coming.”

“You’re forgetting, I made it all the way to the semi-finals at the All-Valley, I’m not some noob,” retorted Hawk, a touch defensively, squaring his shoulders back. There was still a part of him that believed he could have won the All-Valley Tournament in the finals against Miguel if he hadn’t gotten himself disqualified against Robby. And did Miguel not remember how much of a fight he’d put up against him at Coyote Creek? It wasn’t like Hawk didn’t know how to read an opponent.

“I haven’t forgotten,” said Miguel, taking his spot again. He could see that Hawk had the potential to be an even better fighter, if he’d simply concentrate more on fixing his weaknesses rather than trying to force his way past them or pretending they didn’t exist altogether. The next time they fought for real, whether it was at some place like Coyote Creek or the next All-Valley Tournament, Miguel wanted to face Hawk at his best. And still win, of course.

Miguel attacked again, throwing a straight punch, which Hawk avoided by taking a step backward, and he did the same when Miguel tried punching him again, evading his assault. That wasn’t good enough. Hawk couldn’t keep avoiding, he had to learn to block. So, after Hawk took yet another step back to avoid the next punch, Miguel dropped down and tried to sweep his leg, and when Hawk jumped to avoid that, Miguel delivered a solid kick to his chest, sending Hawk falling to the mat once more.

Hawk was more alert during the next round. He leapt up to avoid a similar move of Miguel’s, and when Miguel immediately followed his attack with a rising punch, Hawk instinctively shot out his arm to push it away. “Good,” said Miguel. But rather than give Hawk too much time to soak in that praise, he struck him in the chin with an elbow strike, which Hawk did not have the reflexes to block this time. “Come on, you gotta think faster than that.”

Rubbing his jaw, Hawk said, “In a real fight, I would’ve just hit you in the face before you got that strike in.”

“Uh-huh,” Miguel responded dryly, going back to his spot. A mischievous expression fell over his face and he goaded his opponent some more. “Guess it’s good for me you’re not allowed to attack for now, huh? God, doesn’t that just suck, me getting to use all these cool, badass punches and kicks, while all you can do is either block or get your ass beat? How’s that grab you?” He chuckled when Hawk shot him the finger for that.

As their one-on-one sparring continued, Hawk gradually improved. Miguel tried hitting his chest with a roundhouse kick, but Hawk knocked it away with his elbow. When Miguel responded with a punch aiming for the chest again, Hawk blocked his attack with his knee, and then absorbed Miguel’s follow-up punch with both his arms. Sensing Hawk was starting to get too cocky again, Miguel brought him back down, literally, with another sweep of his leg.

“Don’t worry, you’re getting better,” he assured Hawk, helping pull him back to his feet again.

They were nearing the end of their extended practice, so they agreed to one more round before calling it a day. They were both getting tired, as their sweaty faces attested, but Miguel still wanted to put Hawk through the ringer with this last match, to test how far his reflexes had come since they’d started. 

So, pulling a move out of Hawk’s book, he attacked with back-to-back offensive maneuvers designed to beat his opponent down. Hawk’s face lit up in surprise at this copying of his style, but he raised an arm to keep Miguel’s punch from landing at his head. Hawk pushed his opponent’s hand out of the way, blocked the immediate elbow strike from making contact, protected his chest from a kick by absorbing the hit with his arms, then shot out his arms to block another punch aimed at his face.

Miguel didn’t let up yet. When Hawk smacked away another punch and then evaded a roundhouse kick, Miguel followed up with a furious front kick, intent on making one final point. But Hawk caught his leg in his hands and he immediately flipped it up, making Miguel lose his footing and fall on his back onto the mat. 

It brought a smile to Miguel’s face as he simply laid there for a moment to catch his breath, and he took it in good sport; it had been an impressive move. This must have been how Sensei Lawrence felt whenever one of them nailed a lesson.

Before Miguel could sit back up, Hawk planted his knees on either side of him, pinning him down with his weight as he straddled him. It made Miguel’s skin warm up, and he wasn’t sure he could contribute that to all the exercise they’d been doing. A soft gasp parted his lips when Hawk leaned down, a smug look on his face. “Looks like the champ’s down,” he quipped. “What are you gonna do about it?” He brought his face closer, and Miguel licked his bottom lip in anticipation of what that promised. But Hawk’s grin just widened, and he held back.

Two could play that game.

“I’m gonna make a move,” Miguel answered. Without hesitation, he reached up with his hands and pushed against Hawk’s shoulders with enough force to topple him backward. Miguel gripped his gi and rolled him over, so Hawk was on his back and he was the one on top now.

Keeping Hawk’s shoulders pinned, Miguel brought their mouths close together again, but hesitated just short of uniting them, intent on giving Hawk a lesson about teasing. But Miguel didn’t have it in him just then to keep playing that game. So he closed in the minuscule width of space separating them and let their lips finally meet. They closed their eyes, and while they were both sweaty and short of breath, neither one complained as they shared a quiet, affectionate moment with each other.

When Miguel broke the kiss, Hawk just laughed breathlessly and said, “Watch the hair next time.”


	25. Hawking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawking: noun  
Falconry.   
1\. Hunting with a trained raptor; synonymous with falconry.

Three weeks had passed into the new school year, and since it was the first weekend Hawk had been freed from being grounded, he suggested Miguel pick a place they could hang out, just the two of them. Miguel had chosen the beach. That Saturday was a real scorcher, with the heat of the sunlight bearing down on everybody, made worse by the stuffiness of the surrounding humidity. A late summer California heatwave. So Miguel had thought, why not? Hawk drove them there without protest. It was just pleasant to be together in a place that wasn’t school or the dojo.

They were sitting at the shoreline, Miguel busy digging his toes in the wet sand, squishing his toes into it. He liked the feeling of the sun beating on the back of his neck while the ocean water lapped at his bare feet. Hawk sat beside him, crossing his arms over his drawn-up knees. Their swim trunks were soaked from the tide coming and going, and with each wave they sunk a little more into the sand. Neither of them moved to get up yet, however. It was the hottest part of the day, and the cool water was nice.

For a while, they talked mostly about school and karate, complaining about things that had been going on in all their classes. Chemistry sucked, they both agreed. So did Calculus. But at least things in Cobra Kai were advancing. Sensei Lawrence even said they might soon get to practice splitting cement blocks, like he did at the Valley Fest demonstration. Nothing sounded more badass than that.

It was Miguel who directed the conversation towards the topic that had grabbed his interest the previous night, what Hawk had nonchalantly told him while they had been FaceTiming each other. “You still planning on meeting Demetri tomorrow?” Miguel asked, eyeing Hawk.

Hawk nodded. “Yeah.” 

“That’s good,” encouraged Miguel. “Talking’s good.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, Hawk said, “You sound like my therapist.” Miguel waited a few seconds, but Hawk didn’t say anything more on the subject of meeting up with Demetri, instead keeping his eyes straight ahead at the ocean. 

So Miguel decided not to pry any further. At least Hawk and Demetri would be speaking to each other. That was a good enough start for now. Miguel hoped it might lead to some form of reconciliation between the two. He missed the three of them being able to just hang out with each other, even if it was only in the cafeteria at school. 

Just because Demetri had chosen to take karate at Miyagi-Do didn’t mean he and Hawk had to stay enemies, right? If Sensei Lawrence could start getting over his decades’-long beef with Mr. LaRusso, then couldn’t Hawk follow his lead? Miguel hoped so. There was no good reason for Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do to always be at war with one another.

But Miguel knew not to voice those thoughts at the moment. Now wasn’t the time. Maybe tomorrow night. So instead he leaned back on his hands, digging his fingers into the bronze sand, and asked, “How’s that going, by the way, the therapy?”

Hawk shrugged. “Eh, it’s not that bad.” He’d been surprised by that. Hawk had gone in, fully expecting to waste an hour on the couch each session while the therapist tried to get him to open up about his childhood or something. But the therapist let him talk about anything he wanted, she didn’t pressure him to be articulate about any particular feelings. So most of the time he ended up just talking about Cobra Kai. Things were less stressful that way. He didn’t know how exactly that was supposed to help him; but, still, it wasn’t so awful.

Miguel nudged him with his elbow. “Told you it wouldn’t be.” Miguel wondered if it would be too familiar or patronizing to tell Hawk he seemed like he was starting to get more chill over the past couple of weeks. Just little things Miguel had noticed from him at school and the dojo. Certain subjects didn’t get the same overreactions out of Hawk that they used to. It felt like Hawk was less angry, less on edge, less impulsive overall of late. He could tell the others were starting to notice it, too.

But before he could think of a good way to voice those observations, Hawk changed the subject, asking him, “So, you wanna go anywhere after this?”

Taking that hint, Miguel thought about it for a minute, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. He did have an idea. “Let’s go back to my place after,” he said. “Mom and Sensei are going out this evening, and my grandma’s gonna be at bingo with her church friends. So we’ll have the place to ourselves until about nine or ten.” He raised his eyebrows, and from Hawk’s grin he could tell he caught the hint of what that promised.

Rather than comment on what he and Miguel might end up doing when they were alone, however, Hawk inquired, “So what, this is, like, the fourth date your mom and Sensei have been on, right?” Miguel nodded, and Hawk’s grin got suggestive. He goaded him with, “You know what that probably means, right?”

“Jesus Christ, dude, I don’t want to think about that!” exclaimed Miguel, his face reflexively contorting at the mere thought of what Hawk was hinting at. He shivered with a grimace, trying to get that image out of his head. He wanted to face-plant Hawk into the sand for putting it in there.

Hawk chuckled, but decided to cut him some slack and not needle him anymore about that subject. So he asked, “Does it still feel weird? You know, them dating like that?”

“A little bit,” Miguel answered. He’d been shocked when his mother had told him about it, when she and Sensei Lawrence had planned a second date night, shortly after school had started. He certainly hadn’t seen that one coming. But even though a part of him found it strange, another part thought it was exciting. 

Things were going well, according to what his mom was willing to tell him. And Sensei was always in a good mood those days, it seemed. It made Miguel think, it made him hope, it made him daydream about what all of this might eventually lead to. He had to remind himself not to get too far ahead. Didn’t mean he couldn’t get excited, though.

“You wanna grab a frap or a snow cone soon?” asked Miguel, getting his mind off the subject for now, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “Gotta admit, it’s pretty hot out here.”

“It's hot as balls, is what it is,” emphasized Hawk. He reached beside him and shoved Miguel’s shoulder. “I said we should hit the mall, but it was you who suggested the beach. I feel like I’m boiling alive out here. The sunscreen isn’t doing shit.”

Miguel grinned and shoved him back. “I’m hearing a lot of whining over here. Want some cheese to go with it?”

Hawk cocked an eyebrow and told him, “I’m just sayin’, if I get sunburned, you’re gonna be the one who peels the dead skin off my back.”

“Like hell I am!” replied Miguel with a snort, leaning his head behind Hawk to glance at the back in question. The flying raptor with the red mohawk looked just as it always did on it, the skin around it not having burned yet. He briefly wondered how a sunburn might effect a tattoo. “You’re not that red,” he said. “If you’re worried, ever hear of wearing a shirt to the beach?”

“One of us has to give the babes something to look at,” countered Hawk, mouth creasing into a smirk. He rolled his shoulders, making the raptor on his back flap its wings as he said it.

“Do you always gotta talk so much crap?” asked Miguel, shaking his head and laughing while he stood up. Staring dead ahead at the ocean, the idea came into his mind, that which had been beckoning him since they got there. Tugging his shirt over his head, he said, “Alright, you stay here and show off to the girls, if you want, but I’m going for a swim.”

Once he’d pulled off his shirt and tossed it at Hawk’s face, Miguel darted into the ocean without a second’s hesitation, the cool water hitting him like a wall. But he didn’t mind, instead diving into the waves, getting his body acclimated to the sudden change after only a few seconds. When he stuck his head back above the water, he flipped on his back and back-stroked his way out further into the ocean. He loved the sound of the waves lapping around him, the way they carried him up and over them in their current once he got out far enough.

After stuffing Miguel’s shirt into his bag, Hawk stood up, wiping the wet sand from his swim trunks while his eyes remained locked on where Miguel was swimming. He took a few steps forward, into the ocean, then stopped once he got calf-deep. Reaching a hand around to rub the nape of his neck, letting his fingertips graze the buzzed hairline there, Hawk furrowed his brows, unsure. It was okay, he reminded himself. Besides, Miguel was out there, waving to him, signaling him to follow his lead. 

Do it. Be a Cobra. Make a choice. Go all-in.

After waddling out into the current until he was waist-deep, Hawk took a deep breath and dived in, letting the ocean water surround him completely as he swam out in the direction where Miguel was floating. When his head broke the surface, he knew he’d ruined all of the care put into styling his mohawk from that morning; a quick comb-through with his fingers confirmed it. That realization, rather than the cool water, made him shiver slightly.

Miguel paddled over, closing the remaining distance between them, his lips beaming even as he spit out some salty brine. “See? Doesn’t feel so hot now, huh?” he asked, leaning into a wave to let it carry him over it.

“It’s not bad.” There was still that lingering self-consciousness worming its way through Hawk’s brain, needling him with the taunt that if people weren’t distracted by his hair, then they were going to start staring at the scar on his lip again.

A sudden splash of water to the face pulled Hawk from his worries. Wiping his eyes, he glared at Miguel, who just chuckled and shook his head. But Hawk could see in that friendly expression, in that goofy smile, that Miguel understood what he was thinking, and he was just reassuring him that it was alright. So Hawk accepted his good-natured prank, laughing when Miguel sprayed him in the face with more seawater. 

So it was a fight he wanted, huh?

A smug smirk spread over Hawk’s mouth, and he attacked. Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around Miguel and pulled them both underwater, into the crashing waves. He managed to keep a firm hold onto his opponent for a minute, but Miguel wiggled out of his grip and darted back to the surface, Hawk following close behind him. 

“Asshole,” laughed Miguel, brushing his wet hair from his eyes.

Hawk splashed him in return. “Start shit, get hit,” he countered.

They swam for a long time, alternating between racing to see who could swim the fastest, dunking each other under water, and other such games. It made them forget the late summer heatwave as the sun moved from the afternoon towards the evening skyline. 

After they called it quits and got out of the water, they walked the shoreline for an hour to dry off, strolling from pier to pier, biting into snow cones they purchased while chatting about anything and everything that crossed their minds.

While they were walking, Miguel suddenly inquired, “Hey, you mind if I ask you a question? It’s kinda personal.”

“Uh-oh,” responded Hawk, sticking his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks after he took the last bite of his snow cone and tossed the wrapper in a nearby trash bin. “Guess it’s gotta be bad if you need to ask that, huh?”

Miguel shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. But I was thinking….”

“What, overthinking things again?” joked Hawk, ribbing him in the side.

“I can’t help it, you know me,” said Miguel, unable to hide his grin. Licking his bottom lip once, made redder by the cherry syrup of the snow cone, he continued, “Like I was saying, I was thinking back to that night. You know, when you were drinking.” He detected the way Hawk’s face became guarded, and saw the flush rise to his cheeks; he doubted that color could be blamed on the sun. Miguel knew Hawk hated being reminded of that night, for obvious reasons, and he was sorry for bringing it up. But he still found himself going on. “I don’t know if you remember, but you said you were sorry for kissing me in the dojo, that night after your fight at the mall.”

Hawk sighed, and it sounded irate. He was probably still ashamed with himself, over what happened when he’d gotten drunk. But he answered back, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you regret it?” asked Miguel, furrowing his brows in what might have been worry. “Kissing me, I mean.”

Rubbing the insides of his pockets between his thumbs and forefingers, Hawk looked at Miguel and said, “I don’t regret _this_, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m here with you, aren’t I? But that night I was pretty confused, with what happened with Moon and all. You were just being a bro, and I guess I shouldn’t have done that. You were right to be upset about it, at the pizza shop. I probably would’ve been, too, in your place.” It wasn’t an alpha thing to admit, but it was how he felt, deep down. And it was nice to get it off his chest, while sober this time.

Miguel nodded. “I just want you to know, it’s alright.”

“I’m sure you’re used to me screwing up by now,” added Hawk with a sardonic smile, clapping Miguel on the shoulder. “But remember this, man: no matter what, I do respect you.”

Nodding again, Miguel returned the gesture. “Thanks.” Wrapping his arm around Hawk's shoulders, his grin brightened more, and he goaded, “You must really respect me now, you messed up your hair for me.”

Winding his arm around Miguel’s back in return, to pull him closer, Hawk chuckled under his breath and said, “Yeah. I guess you could say things are starting to get pretty serious, huh?”

Afterwards they drove back to the apartment complex in Reseda. Miguel's mother and grandma were already gone for the evening by the time they got there. The two of them got changed into some normal clothes, Miguel loaning Hawk a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt. Once again, they made a good pretense about having other things on their minds other than taking advantage of being alone together in private. They sat on Miguel’s bed, Hawk helping him update the Cobra Kai website on his laptop. New students were interested in joining, and the site needed a fresh revamp.

They lasted about fifteen minutes before setting the laptop aside and giving their full, undivided attentions to each other.

The first kiss was slow and gentle to start with, each still tasting the sea salt and snow cone flavorings lingering on the other’s lips. They found familiar comfort in each other’s touch, both having missed this over the previous weeks they had been separated from it, when there simply hadn’t been an opportunity to indulge. A quick peck at school between classes or even a full kiss in the back of the dojo after practice didn't cut it. It didn't compare to the feel of hands caressing cheeks, of foreheads slowly touching, of breaths mingling together after a long kiss finally ended. Those could only be shared when there was time, when they had privacy. 

Miguel reached his hands around, brushing his fingertips against Hawk’s hair, pausing for a moment to see his reaction. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hawk leaned in to lock lips with Miguel again. He closed his eyes, cradling Miguel’s jaw with one hand while the other rested on his shoulder. He felt the other boy’s fingers as they gently raked through his undercut. The tiny bit of pressure Miguel gave when he wrapped them in it felt good. When Hawk broke the kiss and reopened his eyes, he couldn’t help but wryly note, “So, you’re a hair guy, huh? Should’ve known.”

Grinning as he gave another tug, firmer this time, Miguel replied, “Oh, and like you aren’t?”

“Heh, yeah, I guess you’re right,” conceded Hawk, shifting the hand resting on Miguel’s shoulder up to run through his dark hair, too. He liked how soft it felt, running between his fingers.

Miguel sighed when he felt Hawk’s hand that was not preoccupied with his hair slip from his jaw, wandering down until it reached under the hem of his shirt and traced long fingers up his chest. He wondered if Hawk could feel how warm his skin was, how the blood had rushed steadily through it until he felt more stifled there in the comfort of his bedroom than he had at the beach. It made him grip the red hair between his fingers tighter, which he suspected Hawk enjoyed, judging by the noise it drew out of him.

Hawk began pressing his mouth down a trail, starting from Miguel’s cheek, to his earlobe, and finally down to his neck. Miguel’s body loosened against his, leaning into the contact more. Hawk liked having his effect on him, being able to get the champ all flustered like that. He heard Miguel inhale sharply, and took that as his cue to keep doing as he was, traveling down until he reached Miguel’s collarbone, where he yanked his shirt collar down to get at a better angle, tilting his head and pressing his lips against Miguel’s Adam’s apple.

He was surprised when Miguel let go of his hair and took hold of his jaw between his hands, guiding him back to his mouth, where Miguel claimed another deep kiss from him, before letting their breaths linger.

Miguel was used to letting Hawk take the lead in these moments. He didn’t know why it so often ended up that way, neither of them had more experience in these matters than the other did. And it wasn’t like Hawk was any bolder than he could be, he was just more audacious about it. Miguel wanted to show that he could be plenty audacious himself. It was his turn now.

So Miguel suddenly pulled away, out of Hawk’s hands. He then pushed Hawk down on his back against the mattress and got on top of him. Hawk just laughed at this turn of events until Miguel silenced him with another demanding kiss. This was the Miguel that Hawk liked to see. 

Their kissing got less gentle, more heated and urgent as their breaths quickened between each break of their lips. Hawk reached his hand around the nape of Miguel’s neck, drawing him down closer, while Miguel’s firm hands were busy traveling under his shirt, across his chest and up his ribcage, then back outside of his shirt and over his shoulders, anywhere they could journey unhindered. Both of them had the suspicion that the shirts would be coming off soon, to get them out of the way.

Resting his head against the pillow, Hawk closed his eyes and allowed Miguel to guide the direction of where things might go. He concentrated on simply feeling, for the time being. He focused on how great it felt to have Miguel doing so many things at once. His hands kept the appropriate pressure as they hugged his sides. His breath was warm by his ear. And then Miguel was kissing his neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin there. No wonder Miguel liked that so much. It almost stole the breath out of him.

Then Miguel’s hips shifted, and the way he moved against him made Hawk’s breath hitch. “Miguel….”

Miguel paused from where he kissed him along his jawline to whisper back by his ear, “Hawk….”

Cracking open his eyes, Hawk reached down to the hand that was currently wandering around his waistline, intwining his fingers between Miguel’s as he did so. Seeing the look of mild apprehension on Miguel’s face as he leaned his head up, Hawk told him, “Just for this? Eli.”

Miguel’s expression softened. “Oh yeah?” he asked, reaching his free hand up to run his fingers through Hawk’s red hair again.

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Miguel whispered, bringing their lips together for another, more tender kiss. “Eli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who supported this fic. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a comment and letting me know.


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